On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the Hogwarts Express was already waiting in its designated spot, ready for the young witches and wizards of the new school year to board.
It was an old-fashioned steam engine, the number on the front reading 5972.
If not for the Hogwarts crest hanging on the front of the engine and the plaque reading *The Hogwarts Express*, one might easily mistake it for an exhibit in some Muggle train museum.
*Did the Ministry of Magic just bring this train here and then completely abandon it?
It’s been over a century.
Why is this old relic still running?* Raven wondered.
Missing out on riding the Hogwarts Express to school had always been one of Raven’s minor regrets.
The closest he had ever come was flying alongside it on his Thestral, Funeral Belle.
But Raven was in no hurry to board, because he was waiting for someone.
In fact, he had already spotted the legendary “Savior,” Harry Potter.
An accidental Horcrux.
And…
an Animagus who had been hiding out in the Weasley household for over a decade.
He only needed to wait a moment.
By sharing a compartment with Ron, Raven could get up close and personal with these two precious research specimens.
Raven’s inner researcher was practically trembling with excitement.
Actually, the Animagus was what fascinated Raven the most, as Horcruxes were rather crude magic.
Phylacteries, which were refined versions of Horcruxes, had over a dozen specimens stored away in Flamel Manor alone.
Those decommissioned alchemical dolls were all products of this high-level magic.
The research value of Harry’s Horcrux lay in the fact that it was created by accident, offering a more direct look at the relationship between soul, body, and death.
As for the Animagus transformation, it was a completely self-contained branch of Transfiguration.
Though it involved potions and spells, it contained neither the “ingredients” aspect of the potion system nor the “intent-based” aspect of the charm system.
It was more like ritual magic, another fascinating system buried in history.
To Raven, nothing was more important than whatever caught his interest.
Unfortunately, due to Nicolas Flamel’s severe aversion to rats, Raven had never had the chance to get Scabbers—Peter Pettigrew—alone over the past twelve years.
He could finally interact with the rat recently, but with so many people at The Burrow, it was hardly convenient to conduct any invasive research.
The old steam engine blew a plume of white smoke above, and the train slowly chugged to life.
Everything was going exactly as Raven had planned, because up to this point, he still hadn’t helped Ron find a seat.
“Excuse me, do you mind if we sit here? Everywhere else is full.”
Target spotted.
Raven addressed Harry, who was sitting alone in the corner of the compartment, staring out the window at the passing scenery in dazed wonder.
This was probably the boy’s first time traveling so far from home on his own, stepping into a magical world that was not particularly welcoming.
“Not at all,” replied Harry, who was wearing an obviously oversized flannel shirt.
“Raven Nicholas Weasley, and this is my younger brother, Ron Weasley,” Raven said, gesturing to Ron.
“I’m Harry, Harry Potter,” the black-haired boy replied, introducing himself to his two new compartment mates.
Ron’s eyes widened with curiosity. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
After all, Harry had been a legendary figure his entire life.
“So, is it true? Do you really have the…?” Ron asked, eager to confirm the rumors.
“Have what?” Harry asked, looking confused.
As if sharing a ghost story, Ron glanced around to make sure they were alone before whispering the word.
“The scar.”
Harry brushed aside his messy bangs, exposing his forehead.
There it was: a lightning-shaped scar.
Raven was all too familiar with it.
The Killing Curse.
He had played around with the green-light trio back in his past life.
Of course, those had been the products of ancient magic’s empowerment in his previous life.
This body, crafted through alchemy and animated by a Curse of Flesh, was essentially a blank slate.
Aside from a massive magical reserve, he was no different from any other young wizard.
Ron and Harry quickly hit it off.
Meanwhile, Raven nudged his wand to examine Scabbers in his cage.
Scabbers had tag-along status as Ron’s pet, since no one else in the house was willing to look after the ancient rat anymore.
Raven didn’t want to either, but he could always borrow him from Ron whenever he pleased.
The scops owl, Pigwidgeon, was registered under Raven’s name, though he had no intention of actually using him.
Otherwise, his jealous phoenix would probably stew the poor little owl.
Just then, the trolley witch pushed her cart up to their compartment.
“Anything off the cart, dears?” the old woman asked the boys.
“Absolutely. Three of everything, please.”
Even back when he had no sense of taste, Raven had never been one to deny his stomach!
With a cherry cola in one hand, he popped a freshly unwrapped Chocolate Frog into his mouth with the other.
Raven had once tried to share the wonders of this carbonated bliss with the other two, but both the wizard-raised boy and the Muggle-raised boy flatly refused.
Cherry flavor?
Not even a dog would drink that!
“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost… Oh, goodness! Did you eat it?”
A girl already wearing her school robes, with bushy hair and rather large front teeth, pushed open the compartment door.
She pointed in sheer horror at Raven’s mouth.
Two dark frog legs were still twitching between his lips.
He had instinctively tried to speak using his old alchemical vocal apparatus, forgetting that he was now entirely flesh and blood.
Once he recovered, Raven clamped his jaw down with a firm bite, severing the two frog legs.
He then displayed the hollow, chocolate cross-section of the frog legs to the girl.
Munching on the chocolate frog’s torso, he mumbled, “Choc’late Frog. Want some?”
The little girl, raised by dentists, looked briefly tempted, but after glancing at the twitching frog legs in Raven’s palm, she politely declined.
The misunderstanding resolved.
Realizing she had just made a bit of a fool of herself, the young girl didn’t rush to introduce herself.
Instead, she scanned the compartment, stepped up to Harry, and drew her wand.
[Scourgify]
Harry’s aged, oxidized glasses frames instantly regained their warm copper luster.
Feeling she had successfully redeemed herself with a display of academic prowess, the girl puffed out her chest like a little penguin and introduced herself.
“Hermione Granger. And you are?”
This time, Ron introduced himself and Raven.
Hermione was only mildly surprised by Harry’s name.
Though she had read about him in books, she hadn’t lived in the wizarding world and didn’t fully comprehend the weight of his legacy.
Raven, meanwhile, watched the future Minister for Magic with great amusement.
Don’t misunderstand; he wasn’t a creep.
As someone who considered himself mature, Raven simply found the bushy-haired little beaver in front of him rather adorable.
Having restored her dignity, Hermione didn’t forget her original mission.
She still had to help Neville look for his toad.
She stood up and addressed the three boys.
“We’ll be arriving soon. You’d better get changed into your robes.”
With that, she stepped out of the compartment.
[Wingardium Leviosa]
The Levitation Charm.
Raven pulled out his prismatic wand—the one he had bought from Ollivander.
With a flick, he summoned and opened the trunks embossed with HP and RR.
He didn’t need to change his clothes.
The clothes he wore had already been enchanted with the [Herbology III] trait.
Indeed, to enjoy the magical buffs, Raven had been wearing his plain black robes all along, simply using a layering spell to disguise its appearance.
Just to cosplay as George.
If he were forced to change, he couldn’t, because this was the only enchanted set he had completed.
Before returning to Hogwarts and reopening his base, he wouldn’t be able to craft any replacements.
This was solely because the materials required for the Herbology trait required Phineas to go to the base’s Swamp Vivarium to harvest Kneazle fur and bring it back.
That was Funeral Belle’s territory, and the old phoenix despised the environment there.