“Hey, chocolate?”
Ronnikins—need any
“Got some. Thanks.”
“Sure you don’t need more, o brother of ours?” The second twin’s grin was identical to the one Dudley wore whenever he had successfully cornered Harry.
Those chocolates were almost certainly not safe.
“I’m good, guys.”
“Damn. Well, guess we’ll have to find some other first-years, eh, George?”
“Guess so, Fred.”
“What about this one?”
“Nah. Quiet sort. Not wise to prank the quiet ones—at least not before the first week.” George winked at Harry.
“I appreciate that,” Harry said with a genuine laugh.
“I’m Harry.”
“George, and this esteemed brother of mine is Fred.” Both twins executed low, flourishing bows without dropping a single sweet.
“You wouldn’t happen to be the Harry Potter, would you?”
Harry stifled a sigh and nodded.
At least they had been polite about it.
“Well, ’twas a pleasure meeting you, Harrykins! Welcome to Hogwarts, and we hope you’ll consider Gryffindor. We can guarantee fewer pranks if you follow us to our noble house!” Fred declared as the pair backed out of the compartment.
That was actually the mildest reaction I’ve had to my name all month, Harry thought, grinning.
The tact gene might have skipped their younger brother, but the twins themselves were rather cool.
Ron muttered something under his breath and produced a rat, attempting to feed it a piece of toffee.
It was probably fortunate the creature showed no interest; the sweet would likely have sent it to the great sewer in the sky.
“Uh, Ron… why do you have a rat?”
“This is Scabbers. Family pet. Percy had him years ago.” Ron scowled at the animal.
“Lazy and boring, though. Want to see a spell? Fred and George gave me one that’s supposed to turn him yellow.” He reached for his wand.
“All right,” Harry said.
Actual magic would be fascinating—though if the twins had supplied the spell, he was not holding his breath.
Ron had just drawn his wand when the door opened once more.
A girl with bushy brown hair and a nervous-looking boy stepped inside.
“Have either of you seen a toad? Neville’s has escaped.”
“No,” Harry answered with a shake of his head.
“Have you asked any of the older students? They might know a searching spell.”
“We haven’t, but that’s a good idea. Oh—are you about to do a spell? I’ve already tried a few of the simpler ones myself without any trouble. Go on, then—what are you attempting?” She dropped onto the seat beside Harry and fixed Ron with an expectant stare.
“Um… right. Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!” A small bang issued from the tip of Ron’s wand.
Scabbers remained stubbornly unchanged.
Harry groaned and covered his face with one hand.
Before he could speak the girl beat him to it.
“Are you certain that was an actual spell? It certainly didn’t sound like one. I suppose it could have been some sort of ritual, but those usually require complicated diagrams drawn beforehand—at least according to my research. Most proper spells are in Latin, though I’ve read that other countries use different base languages, which suggests there’s far more to spellwork than simple words and motions. We’ll probably learn the theory properly in Arithmancy. Here—your glasses are broken, yes? Hold still.”
She raised her wand and pointed it between Harry’s eyes.
He froze.
A short Latin phrase left her lips; the tape holding the bridge of his glasses spun free and the cracked plastic knitted itself seamlessly back together.
Harry removed the spectacles and stared at the restored pair, mouth slightly open.
What’s more impressive, he wondered, that she finished that entire speech in a single breath, or that she fixed my glasses before we even reached the school?
He slipped them back on and turned to her.
“Wow—thanks. The tape was getting annoying. I haven’t read most of the spells yet; I’ve been looking at… other things.” He shifted slightly, trying to keep his mother’s notebook out of sight.
“You’re welcome.” She sat up straighter, a wide grin spreading across her face.
“I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger.”
“Harry. Nice to meet you.”
“Well, Neville and I should keep looking. Trevor’s still missing.”
“Do you want help?” Harry offered.
“No, thank you. We’ll ask one of the prefects.”
After Hermione and Neville left, Ron turned to Harry, face flushed and voice sharp.
“Why’d you offer to help? She was such a know-it-all!”
“That’s no reason not to help someone find their pet,” Harry frowned.
Ron’s tone reminded him uncomfortably of Dudley.
“Besides, she was right. That spell clearly wasn’t real. You said your brothers gave it to you—I’ve known them less than five minutes and I can already tell they’re the sort who’d do that for a laugh.”
“Well… yeah, they would,” Ron muttered, slipping Scabbers back into his pocket.
Harry shook his head, feeling a flicker of pity for the unfortunate creature.
The way the rat squeaked and squirmed brought to mind Boba Fett being dragged into the Sarlacc.
The compartment door slammed open a final time.
A blond boy stood framed in the doorway, flanked by two stocky companions.
Harry sighed.
He remembered this one from Madam Malkin’s.