Harry flushed red in surprise.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he stammered, looking so embarrassed he was practically smoking, feeling even more flustered under Ariana’s guarded gaze.
“I mean, your spellwork was amazing…
I really didn’t mean anything by it!” He stammered out a messy explanation: “I don’t have parents either…
They died when I was a baby.
People say Voldemort killed them…” Harry could hardly believe that one day he would feel a slight relief of conscience because of his orphan status.
He carefully stole a glance at the girl sitting opposite him.
She appeared to be of Asian descent, with hair like black silk and skin as lustrous as the white Chinese porcelain Aunt Petunia collected.
Though her expression was stern, she was undeniably pretty.
His face flushed even deeper.
Fortunately, he saw Ariana’s tight mouth relax, and he let out a sigh of relief.
Confirming that the boy in front of her bore no ill will—and sounded quite pitiable himself—Ariana offered a bit of comfort instead: “It’s fine.
You haven’t had it easy either, but at least you know the name of your enemy, right?
Study hard at Hogwarts, and when the time comes, kill Voldemort to avenge your parents.” “Excuse me, mind if I sit—*AAAARGH!*” A turkey-like screech sounded from the doorway as someone slid open the door, making both occupants of the compartment whip their heads around in unison.
Ariana was bewildered.
“Just take a seat.
You don’t need to pay for tickets with volume.” The red-haired boy looked shocked.
“You actually dared to say That-Person’s name!
And you talked about killing him!” “You’re so brave!” Turning to Harry as if seeking a fellow sensible soul, his gaze landed on Harry’s forehead, triggering another ear-splitting shriek.
Ariana’s face scrunched up in slight disgust.
Had she overestimated the wizarding world?
Why did every peer she met seem to be missing a screw—one stammering like a motor, the other jumping out of his skin at every shadow?
“Harry Potter!
You’re Harry Potter, right?
I’m Ron,” the excited turkey squeaked.
An excited Ron was equal to a hundred quacking ducks.
After a good deal of noisy fussing, Ariana finally got a rough idea of the situation.
Simply put, a decade ago, a terrorist organization went around burning, killing, and plundering, committing every imaginable crime.
But their boss was defeated by the infant Harry, causing the organization to go dormant, restoring peace to the magical world, and turning Harry into a hero.
“No wonder,” Ariana sighed in relief.
“I was wondering why I had no memory of such a famous event, even though I’d memorized the history textbook several times over.
*A History of Magic* only covers wizarding history up to the nineteenth century, and Voldemort probably wasn’t even born back then.” She felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders—she had worried there was a gap in her studies, but as it turned out, she just hadn’t reached contemporary history yet.
“You memorized the textbook several times?!” Ron and Harry cried out in unison, looking like two strangely synchronized ducklings.
“Uh-huh?
Isn’t reading ahead standard practice?” Ariana raised her eyes to look at the stunned pair, unable to understand why they were so astonished.
“I bet kids raised in wizarding families read their parents’ textbooks ages ago.
They probably know them inside out by now!” As she spoke, a wave of anxiety washed over her again.
Ron, who actually came from a wizarding family, didn’t dare say a word.
After a long pause, he offered weakly, “N-not necessarily, you know…” “You memorized all the textbooks, too?” The compartment door slid open again with a clatter.
A little girl with bushy hair stood eagerly at the doorway.
“I memorized them too!” Ariana shot Ron a *’See?
What did I tell you?’* look, then turned enthusiastically to the girl.
The bushy-haired girl’s eyes sparkled with fierce determination.
“I even tried a few simple spells, and they all worked!” She turned toward Harry—who was currently wiping sweat off his face, his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose—and drew her wand.
“*Reparo!*” A flash of light sparkled, and Harry’s taped-up glasses instantly looked brand new.
Before he could even react, he remained frozen with his mouth open in an ‘O’ of shock, wand pointed right at his face.
Ariana sat straight up, her own competitive spirit ignited.
“I’ve tried a few effective spells myself.” She pulled out her lunchbox.
“*Wingardium Leviosa.*” The metal container floated gently into the air.
With another flick of her wand, a pale blue flame spurted from the tip, licking the bottom of the aluminum box.
Before long, a rich, savory aroma began to drift through the compartment.
“Would you like some?” She generously popped open the lid, revealing a packed bowl of chicken stew.
Yes, it was made from the unlucky rooster that had mistaken her spelllight for dawn and crowed.
Mrs.
Brown had turned it into Ariana’s farewell dish on the grounds that it was “too old and blind to be useful.” “No, no, thank you,” Ron said, his face turning red.
“My mom made me sandwiches.” “I need to help Neville look for his toad,” the girl declined as well.
She turned to Ariana.
“I’m Hermione Granger.
And you?” “I’m Ariana Ritchie.
Nice to meet you.” Hermione nodded.
“Likewise.
Maybe we can study together once we get to school.” “Those two are kind of terrifying, aren’t they?” Ron nudged Harry with his elbow.
While the two girls were passionately comparing their study progress, the two boys—completely unable to join the conversation—unaccountably grew closer.
Harry wasn’t in a great mood.
Worried, he said, “I don’t know anything.
I bet I’ll be the worst student in class…
Do you think I’ll get expelled?” “Expelled?
Nah, I doubt it,” Ron’s face fell too.
“As for being the worst…
don’t worry, mate.
You’ve got me.” The two shared a look of mutual consolation.
Ron suddenly turned to Ariana.
“I bet you’re going to be a Ravenclaw.” “What?” Ariana didn’t understand—she hadn’t had extra money to buy extra reading material like *Hogwarts: A History*, so she didn’t know much about things outside the textbooks.
Glad to finally find something the other party didn’t know, Ron perked up.
“Hogwarts splits students into four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.
Ravenclaw students are famous for being really smart.” “Sounds nice.
I like that house.” Ariana shifted the subject.
“Which of these houses is the best?” “Well, everyone says Gryffindor is the best.
Do you know Albus Dumbledore?” Ariana nodded.
“It was in the acceptance letter: Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin (First Class), Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.” Ron choked slightly.
“Ah…
right.
The greatest wizard ever.
He came from Gryffindor.” Ariana lowered her eyes thoughtfully.
“I hope I can get into Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw would be fine too, as long as it’s not Slytherin,” Ron summarized.
“Is Slytherin bad?” Ron frowned.
“Dark wizards come from there all the time.” Finally, a topic Harry could contribute to: “That’s the house Voldemort was in.” Ron let out a strangled gasp as if hyperventilating.
Harry quickly apologized, “I mean…
You-Know-Who.” “So,” Ariana raised a question, “how does the school sort students?
By what criteria?” Ron thought for a moment.
“It’s probably a test.
Fred—my older brother—said it hurts a lot.
He made it sound like we’d have to fight a troll or something.” Harry felt his stomach tie itself into knots.
Fight?
He didn’t know a single spell yet!
He could run pretty fast—hiding from Dudley’s beatings had trained him for that—but running fast wouldn’t do much against a troll!
“No, I don’t think it’ll be fighting a troll.
We’re too young, and trolls aren’t very smart—they could easily kill us.
It’ll probably be fighting something small, or a duel between students, or fighting a professor…
A professor would know when to pull their punches and wouldn’t kill us.” Ariana analyzed seriously, “I think it’s meant to test our spell mastery and assess our personality traits in battle to see which house’s philosophy we align with.” “Besides, some of us come from Muggle families and don’t know any magic at all, so I doubt the exam is limited to combat.
There’ll probably be a written portion too.
I’d guess a 3:7 ratio between practical and written tests would be fair—wizard-born students have had a ten-year head start learning magic!” Say what you want, but it sounded insanely logical.
At least Harry bought it completely.
His face turned pale: whether it was a practical duel or a written exam, he didn’t know a thing!
Although he had skimmed *A History of Magic*, the only thing he remembered was the name “Hedwig”—and that was only because he had used it to name his owl.
Ron muttered, “No, Ariana, trust me…
a lot of wizarding kids don’t know anything either.” Ariana had already flipped open *Magical Theory* and started reviewing.
Harry frantically pulled *A History of Magic* out of his trunk.
Ron frantically dug out *A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration*.
The atmosphere in the compartment instantly became suffocatingly academic.
All three poured over their books in anxiety, so much so that when Malfoy—looking like a golden lightbulb—came by to provoke them halfway through, none of them were in the mood to entertain him.
As the golden lightbulb went on chirping and mocking the Weasley family, Ariana interrupted him impatiently: “So, your family is some big, impressive wizarding family?” “Of course,” Malfoy boasted, adjusting his tie haughtily.
“Your family has a long heritage?” Ariana pressed.
Malfoy puffed his chest out even further.
“Of course!” “What do you get when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Ariana asked out of nowhere.
“What?” Malfoy blanked, but Ariana’s next questions came rapid-fire like a machine gun: “What year was the Code of Werewolf Conduct passed?” “Huh?” “Can you transfigure an object?
To what degree?” “…” Ariana stared at the stammering Draco and the two stunned hulking goons behind him, coming to a firm conclusion: “It seems background doesn’t guarantee intelligence.” “You had such a great learning environment!” she said, looking at him with disappointment, like a teacher watching a hopeless student waste potential.
“You think you’re so smart?!” Malfoy slammed the compartment door shut in embarrassment and fury.
Ariana buried her head back into her book, looking in quite a good mood.
“Now I’m a bit more confident about the entrance exam.
There are plenty of idiots around.” Harry, who had had his neck stiffened and ready to fight Malfoy a second ago: …
He sat down with a thud and frantically flipped through his books to look for the answers to those questions.
He felt like he was one of the idiots.