“Has anyone seen a toad?” At the compartment door, a girl holding several books stood straight, her bushy hair falling onto her shoulders.
After speaking, she didn’t leave right away.
She looked at Harry first, then Ron, and finally stared at the rat cage on the table.
Ron had just stuffed Scabbers back inside and immediately shook his head.
“No.
A round-faced boy asked us earlier.” Harry added, “If we see it, we’ll tell him.” The girl still didn’t leave.
She hugged the books tighter to her chest and spoke very fast.
“I’m Hermione Granger.
That boy is Neville Longbottom, and he’s very upset.
I’ve already asked in several compartments.” Lynn sat by the window, a pumpkin juice at his hand.
Hermione Granger.
The third person who was supposed to barge into Harry and Ron’s lives on the train had arrived after all.
Very good.
History hadn’t fallen apart; his compartment just had an extra rat that shouldn’t be overlooked.
Lynn didn’t interrupt.
The first meeting between Harry, Ron, and Hermione was supposed to carry sparks.
Extinguishing those sparks too early would only cause trouble later.
Ron looked at the books in Hermione’s arms, his expression tightening first.
“Have you read all those already?” “Of course not all of them,” Hermione said, frowning.
“But one has to prepare before school starts.
I’ve tried a few simple spells, and they all worked.” Ron hid his old wand behind his sleeve.
The movement was subtle and practiced.
Lynn saw it.
Ron wasn’t afraid of magic spells.
He was afraid of others seeing that his things were all hand-me-downs from his older brothers.
Harry, however, showed interest.
“You can do magic?” “Just a little,” Hermione said, looking at them.
“What about you?” The compartment fell quiet.
Lynn picked up his pumpkin juice, deciding not to take part in this academic ambush on freshmen.
Ron cleared his throat.
“I know one too.
My brother taught me.” Hermione sat up straight immediately.
“Then you can try it.” Ron’s face froze.
Inside the cage, Scabbers pulled back his paws.
Lynn’s hand paused at the bottle rim.
This reaction was wrong.
It wasn’t the irritability of a pet being woken up; it was closer to the avoidance of a creature long subjected to some kind of prank.
After a moment of hesitation, Ron opened the cage and placed Scabbers on the table.
“The spell turns him yellow,” he said.
“Just because it didn’t work before doesn’t mean it won’t this time.” Hermione placed her books on her knees, adopting the posture of a serious examiner.
Harry leaned in a bit too.
Lynn leaned back against his seat.
The Savior, the future top witch student, the Weasleys’ old rat, plus a freshman who just wanted to be a bystander.
The Hogwarts Express certainly knew how to arrange seats.
Ron raised his wand and recited carefully: “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow—” “Wait a minute.” Hermione interrupted him.
Ron nearly bit his tongue.
“What now?” Hermione stared at his wand.
“Your wand is badly worn.
An old wand might not suit you, and that will affect your spellcasting.” Ron’s face flushed bright red.
“It’s just old, not broken!
Besides, plenty of things at home belonged to my brothers.” Having said that, he shut his own mouth.
Harry looked at the rat on the table, not knowing who to side with.
Hermione realized she had been harsh too.
She pressed her lips together, tapped her fingers on the spine of her book twice, then let go.
Lynn was in no hurry to smooth things over.
The Weasleys’ tight finances weren’t just about money.
They had a family name, a political stance, Ministry of Magic jobs, and a house full of children.
But none of that could buy a new wand, let alone Ron’s confidence in front of strangers.
And Hermione wasn’t trying to pull rank either.
Coming from a Muggle family, she read frantically out of fear of being looked down upon the moment she entered school.
She wanted so badly to prove she deserved to be here that every word sounded like a frantic, sharp marginal note from a textbook.
Harry sat in the middle, knowing nothing, yet already treated as a legend by so many.
As for Scabbers on the table…
Lynn glanced over.
It lay motionless, pretending to be asleep.
Ron raised his wand again, as if determined to reclaim the dignity he had just lost.
“I’m trying it right now.” Lynn pulled a Chocolate Frog from his pocket and set it on the table.
“Eat something first.” Ron paused.
“Now?” “Casting spells on an empty stomach makes it easy to blame your belly if you fail.” Lynn held down the jumping Chocolate Frog.
“Besides, your rat needs some encouragement too.” Hermione asked immediately, “Can rats eat chocolate?” Lynn looked at Ron.
Ron said right away, “Scabbers eats anything.
He even chewed on Percy’s homework before.” “Then that means he’s at least more willing to interact with books than some students,” Lynn said.
Harry laughed.
The embarrassment on Ron’s face faded a bit, and he laughed along.
Hermione wanted to counter, but ended up just hugging her books tighter.
Lynn broke off a small piece of chocolate and handed it to Ron.
Ron casually offered it to Scabbers’ mouth.
Scabbers didn’t eat it right away.
He paused for a few seconds before holding the chocolate in his front paws and taking small nibbles.
Lynn looked at his paws.
Missing a toe.
It matched his memories.
Peter Pettigrew.
The name weighed on Lynn’s mind, unspoken.
He knew the original story inside out, so he knew this rat wasn’t just a rat.
But knowing the plot and watching it lie in Ron’s hands with his own eyes were two different things.
Scabbers took two bites, suddenly froze, and lay back down on the tabletop.
Ron didn’t notice.
Harry didn’t notice.
Hermione was still fussing over the old wand.
Only Lynn caught that slight hesitation.
Enough.
He picked up the Chocolate Frog card.
On the card, Albus Dumbledore smiled at them before stepping out of the frame.
Harry stared at the card.
“The people on them move?” Ron perked up.
“Of course.
All Chocolate Frog cards are like that.
Who did you get?” “Dumbledore,” Lynn said, handing the card over.
Ron immediately said, “Dumbledore’s brilliant.
The greatest wizard alive—heaps of people say so.” Hermione chimed in, “*Important Modern Magical Discoveries* and *A History of Modern Magic* both mention him.
He also defeated Grindelwald.” Ron looked at her.
“You’ve read those too?” “Why wouldn’t I?” Hermione retorted.
“It’s normal to learn about the Headmaster before school starts.” Ron opened his mouth, defeated again.
Lynn took a sip of pumpkin juice.
Excellent.
Miss Granger had entered the battlefield, and Mr.
Weasley had temporarily retreated.
Unwilling to lose, Ron quickly began explaining wizarding world common knowledge to Harry: Chocolate Frog cards, Quidditch teams, the four Hogwarts houses.
“Gryffindor is the best,” Ron said.
“My family’s almost all in Gryffindor.
Hufflepuff is decent too.
Ravenclaw is full of smart people.
As for Slytherin…” He lowered his voice.
“Lots of Dark wizards came out of there.
You-Know-Who too.” Hermione frowned.
“You can’t say an entire house has problems just because one bad person came from it.” Ron snapped back immediately, “I’m not the only one saying it.
Everyone knows.
Someone like Malfoy will definitely end up in Slytherin.” Hearing that name, Harry sat up a bit straighter.
“Who is You-Know-Who?” Ron was stunned.
“You don’t know?” Harry shook his head.
“I’ve always lived with my aunt and uncle.
They never told me any of this.” The noise in the compartment quieted down.
Ron looked at the scar on Harry’s forehead.
The words came to his lips, but he swallowed them back down.
He usually spoke without thinking, but for once, he refrained from treating the story like gossip.
Hermione also reined in her eagerness to correct others.
Harry lowered his head and touched the edge of his robes, quickly pulling his hand back.
Lynn sat in the corner, listening as Ron recounted the story of “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” The recount was crude, mixed with family rumors, a child’s fear, and the wizarding world’s long-accumulated taboos.
But these words were valuable.
Whatever a society fears, it builds silence around.
They didn’t speak Voldemort’s name, but that didn’t mean the name was truly untouchable.
More often, fear had been passed down for so long that it became a habit.
Pure-blood families used lineage to maintain their dignity.
The Ministry of Magic used rules to save face.
Dumbledore used his prestige to suppress the situation.
Death Eaters hid in the shadows, waiting for their old master’s return.
And Hogwarts gathered the children of all these people back into the same castle.
Lynn looked down at the cage.
Scabbers curled up in the rag, unmoving.
This school was certainly educational.
Halfway through his story, Ron steered the topic back to houses.
“Anyway, I don’t want to go to Slytherin.
If I get sorted there, my mum will go crazy.” Hermione said seriously, “I heard the Sorting Hat sorts people based on their traits, not what their families say.” Ron shrugged.
“Hope it’s not too opinionated.” Harry asked, “What if you get sorted into a house you don’t like?” Ron couldn’t answer.
Hermione thought for a moment and couldn’t find an answer either.
Lynn set down his bottle.
“Then just survive the seven years.” All three of them looked at him.
Ron couldn’t help saying, “Isn’t that standard a bit too low?” “For Hogwarts, it’s not low at all.” Harry hesitated.
“Is the school very dangerous?” “Moving staircases, talking portraits, the Forbidden Forest, dungeons, plus a bunch of eleven-year-old freshmen.” Lynn looked at the snacks on the table.
“Put all that together, and it’s not going to be anywhere near safe.” Ron wanted to refute, but after thinking for a long time, he failed.
Hermione seized the key point: “You already know Hogwarts has these things?” “Professor McGonagall mentioned part of it,” Lynn said naturally.
“The rest can be guessed from the supply list and the parents’ reactions.” Hermione grew interested.
“You can deduce things?” “Not really,” Lynn said.
“I just have a habit of picking up what others miss.” Ron tore open a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.
“Then guess what flavor this one is.” Lynn glanced at the bean and leaned back.
“I don’t recommend eating it.” Ron didn’t believe him and popped it into his mouth.
The next moment, his entire face scrunched up.
Harry asked nervously, “What flavor?” Ron swallowed with difficulty.
“Fred’s socks.” Hermione’s face changed.
“Why on earth do you know what his socks taste like?” Ron remained silent.
Lynn pushed the pumpkin juice over.
“Don’t bother explaining.
The more you explain, the closer you get to a Weasley family secret.” Harry laughed so hard he almost dropped his candy on the floor.