"Haha!" George laughed to himself, almost forgetting that the nutritious meal had been prepared according to his own standards. Not wanting to waste George's kindness, Harry finished all the food. This time, he ate with great appetite, like a stubborn yet innocent child.
George suppressed a smile, took out his wand, cast a quick "Scourgify," and cleaned both the tableware and the surrounding area.
At that moment, a young girl wearing Hogwarts robes pushed open the compartment door and saw the scene. Behind her stood a little boy who had just lost his toad.
"This is a new cleaning spell. It can remove dust and dirt. I've tried it before—it worked when I practiced at home, but it couldn't possibly be this easy."
"My family doesn't know anything about magic, so when I received my acceptance letter, everyone thought it was a scam. When I found out it was real, I was both surprised and excited. I researched a lot about this school. According to what I read, Hogwarts is the best wizarding school, right?"
"I've memorized all the textbooks. I hope that'll help me keep up with the lessons. My name is Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you! Oh—what's your name?"The girl spoke so quickly that she barely paused for breath.
"Oh, and have you seen Neville's toad?" she added.
Listening to her nonstop questions, George felt a headache coming on. He hadn't noticed earlier, but Hermione really was talkative.
"My name is George Soros," he replied calmly. "This is Harry Potter. And no, neither of us has seen Neville's toad."
"Really? Harry Potter?" Hermione's eyes widened. "You're famous! Truly famous! I even bought reference books—A History of Modern Magic, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. You're mentioned in all of them."
Hearing this, George instantly sensed Hermione's potential as a future academic. Her reading volume and memory were genuinely impressive.
After all, eleven years old was roughly the age of a first-year middle school student in the modern world. Due to the magical population being small, basic education in the wizarding world lagged behind, and first-year textbooks were relatively simple. Memorizing them was manageable.
But those books Hermione mentioned were adult-level texts. For her to read, understand, and remember them at such an age showed extraordinary talent.
"They mentioned me?" Harry asked, completely stunned by the long list of book titles.
"Oh my goodness, you really don't know?" Hermione said in disbelief. "If it were me, I'd remember every word!"
"By the way," she continued, "do you know which house you'll be sorted into? I hope it's Gryffindor. Older students told me it's the best house, and Dumbledore graduated from there! Though Ravenclaw is also great—it's full of smart people."
"But let's talk about that later. I'm going to help Neville find his toad. You should change into your robes before the train arrives."
Without waiting for a reply, Hermione turned around and hurried off with the little boy.
"What a lovely girl," George muttered softly. Then he turned to Harry and said gently, "Don't worry about what others think. All you need to do right now is study magic. One day, all your questions will be answered."
"Thank you, George," Harry said. His tension finally eased.
Ever since entering the wizarding world, it felt like everyone knew him—understood him—except himself. People kept talking about a Harry Potter he had never met, never understood.
The unfamiliarity made him anxious and lost, until George's words gave him clarity. What he needed to do was simple: learn magic.
Seeing the determination replace confusion in Harry's eyes, George nodded quietly. Harry had talent and opportunity. Becoming a powerful wizard was likely—but whether he would achieve greatness or live a happy life depended on his own choices.
After a while, the door opened again.
This time, it wasn't Hermione or Neville.
Three boys entered. One of them was the pale-faced boy Harry had met in Diagon Alley. He looked Harry up and down, making him uncomfortable.
"Harry Potter?" the boy asked. "Everyone on the train is talking about you. They say you're going to Hogwarts, that you saved the world. Is that really you?"
"Yes," Harry replied, glancing at the two boys flanking him—large, ugly, and overweight, like bodyguards.
Noticing Harry's gaze, the pale boy introduced them casually. "This is Crabbe. This is Goyle. My name is Malfoy—Draco Malfoy."
"Only pure-blood wizards deserve true friendship," Malfoy said arrogantly, extending his hand. "You can be my friend."
Harry ignored the gesture.
"I know who my friends are," he replied coldly. Malfoy's tone reminded him of his unpleasant cousin Dudley.
Malfoy's pale face flushed with anger.
"If I were you, Harry, I'd be careful," he said slowly. "Your situation isn't good. If you don't want to end up like your parents, you'd better be smart. You need someone like me."
Harry stood up immediately. "Leave. Now."
"We're not leaving," Malfoy sneered, clearly enjoying provoking him.
"I hope you're just as confident during your final exams, Malfoy," George said coolly. "If you lose to Harry, your precious pure-blood pride will be completely ruined."
Malfoy looked at George, surprised. He didn't recognize him—perhaps an older student.
"Hmph." Unable to gain the upper hand, Malfoy lifted his chin, snorted at Harry, and left with Crabbe and Goyle.
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