The soft rays of dawn crept through the curtains, painting the bedroom in warm hues of gold and amber. Harry Potter lay in bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above. Today was the day he would finally board the Hogwarts Express.
He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, his gaze resting on the bedside table where Elythral lay. The wand rested silently in its display box, its dark, textured Yggdrasil heartwood humming with a subtle, ambient warmth. He didn't strictly need it to channel his power, but having a focus crafted by magic itself was a comfort he had quickly come to respect.
Rising from the bed, Harry grabbed a fresh set of casual clothes from his wardrobe and headed into the bathroom to get ready for the long day ahead.
When he stepped into the living room twenty minutes later, the rich scent of freshly brewed black tea filled the house. Petunia sat on the sofa, skimming the morning edition of the Daily Prophet with a quiet, practiced focus.
She looked up as he entered, her face lighting up with a warm smile. "Good morning, Harry."
"Morning, Mum," Harry said, settling into the armchair opposite her. He stretched slightly, resting his hands in his lap. "Is Dad still upstairs?"
"Your dad and Sirius went out for a morning walk around the grounds," Petunia said, setting her paper down on the coffee table. "Sirius said he needed some fresh air to clear his head, but knowing him, he's probably just dragging his feet. And Abigail is still asleep. She stayed up far too late last night fussing over not wanting to let you leave."
Harry chuckled softly. "I don't want to leave either. It's not like I need the education. I already completed everything up till Auror academy."
Petunia tilted her head, her sharp yet kind eyes studying him across the room. "Are you nervous about today?"
"Not at all Mum," Harry smiled. "Just curious about what the year ahead holds."
Petunia's smile broadened as she stood, walking over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You've always had an old soul, Harry. Stay right there. I'll make sure you have a full basket of treacle tarts packed for the train."
Before Harry could thank her, the heavy front doors clicked open. Vernon walked in first, looking sharp and energized, closely followed by Sirius.
The Black heir looked distinctly disheveled. His long dark hair was tied back in a loose, lopsided knot, and his heavy wool robes were crumpled, faded, and thoroughly wrinkled, as if he had thrown them on in complete darkness without looking.
"Morning, kiddo!" Vernon boomed, offering a wide, energetic grin as he walked past to head toward the kitchen.
Sirius collapsed onto the sofa next to Harry with a dramatic sigh, rubbing his eyes. "Morning, pup. Tell me we don't have to leave for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters just yet..."
Harry looked at his godfather's messy appearance with an amused smirk. "Did you grab those robes off the floor in the dark, Sirius?"
"I was in a rush," Sirius grumbled, leaning his head back against the cushion. "Vernon nearly dragged me out of bed before the sun was even fully up."
Rather than reaching for a wand, Harry simply flicked his right index finger in a subtle, swift gesture toward Sirius.
A thin strand of warm golden magic glided silently from Harry's hand, weaving across Sirius's clothes. The spell swept over the fabric like a gentle wave, smoothing out the deep wrinkles instantly and refreshing the material. The fabric tightened into crisp, perfectly pressed folds, making the dark robes look as fresh and immaculate as if they had just been tailored.
At the same time, the wave of magic settled over Sirius's shoulders, washing away his grogginess and leaving him feeling as alert as if he had just drank a fresh cup of strong espresso.
Sirius blinked, his eyes snapping open. He looked down at his pristine, perfectly pressed robes, then up at Harry in absolute surprise.
"Did you just... wandlessly press my clothes and wipe out my exhaustion in one go?" Sirius asked, running a hand over his collar.
Vernon walked back into the room holding a cup of coffee, chuckling as he caught the tail end of the interaction. "Told you, he is a monstrous genius."
Sirius shook his head, a mixture of awe and pride showing on his face. "I knew you were talented, Harry, but doing precise cleaning and focus charms without so much as an incantation or a focus is incredible. I shudder to think what your teachers are going to do when you turn in your first assignment."
Before Harry could answer, Petunia's voice echoed from the dining area. "If you boys are done admiring the spellwork, breakfast is on the table!"
The family gathered around the table, which was loaded with a hearty spread of sizzling bacon, sausages, eggs, breakfast burritos, and sandwiches.
A light patter of footsteps echoed on the stairs, and Abigail appeared, dressed neatly in a light blue dress with her auburn hair tied back in a simple ponytail. Her blue eyes were wide and slightly solemn as she took her seat beside Harry.
"Good morning, everyone," she said quietly, picking at a piece of toast without taking a bite.
"Morning, Abby," Harry said softly, nudging her shoulder gently. "What's with the long face? You're going to have the whole house and the gardens completely to yourself."
Abigail set the toast down and looked up, her dark eyes solemn as she stared directly at him. "The house isn't what matters, Harry. It is going to be quiet without you here." She paused, her voice dropping into a small, rare admission of vulnerability. "I'm going to miss you."
Harry's expression softened, and he leaned closer to his sister. "I'll write to you every single week, Abby. I'll tell you all about the moving staircases, the ancient magic in the walls, and just how dull the castle is without you around to keep me sharp."
"You had better," she said, her usual composure steadying her tone, though her eyes remained wide and earnest. "And don't leave out any details."
"Cross my heart," Harry promised smoothly. "And if I decide the castle rules are getting too tedious on a weekend, maybe I'll drop by unannounced to see how your broom control is coming along."
Vernon let out a booming laugh from the head of the table. "Sneak out of Hogwarts through a Floo? Don't give your mother a heart attack, son! Though I wouldn't put it past you."
"Don't worry, Abby," Sirius added with a grin, reaching for a sausage. "If your brother ever gets caught sneaking around, I'll make sure to bail him out before the Headmaster notices."
"You are terrible influences, both of you," Petunia said with mock sternness, placing a large, carefully wrapped basket into Harry's hands. "Here are your treacle tarts, darling. Make sure you don't eat them all before you even reach the station."
"Thanks, Mum," Harry said, carefully tucking the basket into his coat pocket, where his subspace pouch subtly expanded to hold the weight without a bulge. He had already stuffed his trunks and luggage in it the night before.
Vernon drained his coffee mug and stood up, checking his pocket watch. "Alright, team. The train leaves at eleven sharp, and I refuse to let a Potter be late for his first term. Let's head to the station."
The bustling chaos of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters washed over them as soon as they stepped through the barrier. Thick plumes of scarlet steam billowed toward the wrought-iron rafters, carrying the sharp scent of coal and hot engine grease. Owls hooted from their cages, cats darted between trunk-laden trolleys, and the eager chatter of returning students filled the air as parents fussed over last-minute arrangements.
Petunia adjusted the collar of Harry's coat for the twentieth time, her eyes scanning him with meticulous care. "Alright, Harry, you have your subspace pouch secured?"
Harry smiled, gently taking her hand. "Yes, Mum. Everything is packed. I'm all set."
"Make sure you eat properly," she insisted, though her expression melted into a proud smile. "No skipping meals for extra reading time in the library."
Vernon clapped a heavy, reassuring hand onto Harry's shoulder, his booming voice carrying easily over the station's din. "Off you go then, son. Show them what a Potter-Dursley can do. Don't take any nonsense from anyone, but keep your head sharp."
"I will, Dad," Harry said, leaning into the embrace.
Before he could straighten up, a pair of small hands tugged firmly at the hem of his shirt. Harry crouched down immediately to eye level with Abigail. Her wide blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her small fingers clutching tight.
"Don't forget to write every single week, Harry," she said, her voice soft but fiercely determined. "You promised."
"Have I ever broken a promise to my favorite sister?" Harry murmured, offering her a warm grin as he gently ruffled her auburn hair. "I'll send you the best stories about the castle. You'll feel like you're right there with me."
Abigail sniffled slightly, managing a tiny nod. "You'd better. If you forget, I'm letting Hedwig nip your fingers next time."
Sirius chuckled from beside Vernon, crossing his arms with an easy posture. "Don't worry, little bird. If he slackens on his owl duties, I'll personally fly over to the Owlery and drag a letter out of him."
"Harry! Over here!"
A loud, familiar voice broke through the crowd. Harry turned to see Ron weaving through the wizarding families, pushing a brass trolley loaded down with his trunk. Standing proudly atop the luggage, perching inside a pristine wire cage, was the magnificent white barn owl Harry had bought just a week ago.
Ron was grinning ear to ear, pointing excitedly at the bird to make sure Harry saw it.
Harry's lips curved into a sharp, quiet smirk as his eyes locked onto the cage. His ninety-five percent gamble had paid off down to the exact letter. Percy's guilt had won out, the scale had been balanced, and Ron finally had an owl of his own. Standing just behind Harry, Abigail caught the look on her brother's face, nudging him lightly with her shoulder with a subtle, knowing smile.
Following right behind Ron was the rest of the Weasley clan. Having practically lived at the Burrow over the summer, the sight of the redheads immediately brought a familiar, chaotic comfort.
Arthur Weasley led the group, stepping up to Vernon with a wide, easy grin, a far cry from any stiff Ministry etiquette, thanks to the bonds built over dinner tables and backyard Quidditch matches over the summer.
"Vernon! Petunia!" Arthur greeted warmly, clapping Vernon on the arm. "Good to see you made it through the barrier without any trouble!"
"Arthur, Molly!" Vernon boomed, offering a firm handshake. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. We just Apparated close to the station, so it wasn't much of an issue."
Molly laughed softly, stepping past Arthur to pull Petunia into a brief, warm hug. "It's lovely to see you, Petunia. I packed a few jars of jams and packets of dried fruits in Ron's trunk, but I'm sure Harry has enough sweets to stock a shop."
"You know how he is," Petunia chuckled, shaking her head fondly. "He's probably got enough treacle tarts in that pouch to feed half the carriage."
Meanwhile, Percy stepped forward with crisp, military precision, adjusting the polished Prefect badge pinned proudly to his chest. "Greetings, Harry. As Prefect, I feel it is my duty to remind you that first-year carriage assignments fill up rapidly. Should you require assistance navigating the train, do not hesitate to ask."
"Ignore him, Harry," Fred interjected, popping up on Harry's left. "Percy's idea of assistance is reading the train rules at top volume."
"First year is all about learning the real ropes," George added, appearing on his right. "And by ropes, we mean all the hidden corridors and shortcut staircases we mapped out while dodge-balling Filch."
"Which we might be persuaded to share," Fred whispered conspiratorially. "For a modest family discount, of course."
Ron rolled his eyes hard enough to strain them. "Ignore both of them. They've spent all morning trying to convince me the Sorting involves wrestling a mountain troll."
Harry raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "A mountain troll? Sounds like a colossal waste of castle maintenance."
Fred and George exchanged wide-eyed glances of sheer approval. "See? Pure logic," George declared. "A natural fit for Gryffindor… or Slytherin, if you fancy terrifying the teachers."
A few paces away, Ginny broke off from her mother's side and marched straight over to Abigail. Even at ten years old, Ginny carried herself with a fierce, stubborn confidence that had only sharpened during their month of playing together around Ottery St Catchpole.
"You're not going to cry all morning, are you, Abby?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up. "Because if you do, Luna's going to think you've been infested with Wrackspurts when we meet up next week."
Abigail wiped a tear from her cheek and glared playfully at her friend. "I am not crying! I'm just going to miss Harry, that's all. And don't start bringing up Luna's weird creatures again, Ginny!"
"Hey, Luna's right about half of them, I reckon," Ginny replied with a sharp, fearless grin. "Besides, with both our brothers gone, we've got the whole pitch to ourselves. We can practice flying on the pitch without Ron shouting about rules or Fred sneaking practice Bludgers at us."
Abigail couldn't help a small laugh breaking through her solemn mood. "True. But still... It won't be the same."
"It won't, but we will join them next year." Ginny smiled, her brown eyes flashing with mischief. "And we have the entire year of being able to do whatever we want."
"Alright, final call!" the train conductor shouted down the length of the platform, his steam whistle blowing a sharp, reverberating blast. "All aboard!"
Ron nudged Harry's shoulder. "Come on, mate. Let's grab a compartment before the older kids take all the good ones near the back."
Harry turned to give his family a final look. "Go ahead, Ron. I'll be right behind you."
Vernon gave Harry a firm squeeze on the shoulder. "Go on then, son. Make us proud."
"Be good, Harry," Petunia whispered, kissing his cheek gently.
Harry crouched down to give Abigail one last squeeze, then looked up at Sirius, who gave him an affectionate, pride-filled nod.
With final handshakes and goodbyes exchanged between the two families, Harry and Ron boarded the train, quickly claiming an empty compartment near the middle carriage. Harry immediately slid the window frame down and leaned out into the cool morning air.
Sirius stood tall beside Vernon, his usual smug grin softened by a warm, proud gaze as he raised a hand in farewell. Petunia held Vernon's arm, her smile bright and steady. Molly was frantically dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while Arthur waved cheerfully beside her.
As the heavy wheels churned and the Hogwarts Express began to glide away from the platform, Abigail and Ginny broke into a sudden, synchronized sprint alongside the train carriage.
Ginny ran with pure, unbridled energy, her red hair streaming behind her as she shouted over the clattering wheels. "Show those older kids how to fly, Potter! Don't let Ron embarrass us!"
"Write to us every single week!" Abigail yelled right beside her, her dress fluttering as she kept pace with Ginny's sharp stride.
"I promised, didn't I?" Harry called back out the window, waving forcefully until the train picked up too much speed.
The two girls finally slowed to a halt at the edge of the platform, hands on their hips, laughing and catching their breath as they watched the red engine disappear into the curve of the tracks.
Harry pulled himself back inside and slid the window shut, taking a deep breath as he sat down across from Ron.
Ron kicked his legs up onto the plush seat cushion, a wide, relaxed grin on his face. "Blimey. I thought my mum was never going to stop fussing. Ginny's going to drive your sister mad this term, you know that right?"
Harry laughed, leaning back into his seat. "Honestly? I think Abby is going to give Ginny a run for her money."
"Well," Ron said, reaching into his pocket, "guess we've got the whole train ride ahead to figure out what Hogwarts has in store for us."
"I noticed the owl," Harry said, nodding toward the cage. "Percy gave it to you?"
Ron rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah... That happened this morning actually. Percy came into my room right before we left for the station and just handed her over. Said having two owls was completely unnecessary and that Hermes was more than enough for his Prefect duties."
Harry smiled, "I see... That's quite unlike Percy."
"Well.. with the rat..." Ron shook his head. "Nevermind that... I named her Athena by the way. She's brilliant."
"Hermes and Athena," Harry repeated, his smirk returning as he looked at the bird. "Greek gods huh? That suits her really well, Ron. I'm glad you have her."
The steady, rhythmic clatter of the tracks echoed through the corridor as the Hogwarts Express sliced through the rolling countryside. Outside the window, urban brick walls and soot-stained London roofs had long since dissolved into sweeping fields of emerald green, dotted with grazing sheep under an expansive, pale sky.
Harry rested his elbow against the windowsill, watching the landscape blur past as the train gained speed. By his mental clock, they had been traveling for just over an hour. In another hour or so, the sweet trolley would make its rounds down the carriage aisle, and shortly after that, a certain bushy-haired girl would likely come knocking in search of a lost toad.
For now, though, the atmosphere inside the compartment was thoroughly relaxed.
Across from him, Ron had unbuttoned his outer robes, idly kicking his sneakers against the opposite seat as they traded stories. They talked about Quidditch strategies, comparing the Chudley Cannons' abysmal seasonal stats against the Holyhead Harpies, and laughed about the chaotic month they had just spent together.
Eventually, Ron reached into his worn leather satchel and pulled out a battered wooden box. "Fancy a game of Wizard's Chess?" he asked, his face lighting up with genuine excitement.
Harry smirked, letting out a sigh of mock reluctance. "You know I'm absolute rubbish at chess, Ron. You're just looking for an easy ego boost."
"Come on, mate, it builds character," Ron grinned, sliding the lid off and dumping the heavy, hand-carved stone pieces onto the board.
"You just want an ego boost."
The white and black figures immediately scrambled into position, yelling directions at each other in tiny, tinny voices. True to form, the match was a swift slaughter. Within five minutes, Ron's white knight swung a heavy stone mace, ruthlessly shattering Harry's black queen into fragments that scurried off to the edge of the board, grumbling angrily.
Harry burst out laughing, leaning back into his seat. "I'm great at magic, Ron, but chess? Might as well be a Muggle for how bad I am." Ron beamed, sweeping his king forward to secure a decisive checkmate. "It's all about spatial strategy and reading your opponent three moves ahead. Don't worry, mate, I'll teach you the ropes before we reach the Scottish borders."
Before Harry could protest another round of public execution on the chessboard, a loud, rattling clatter echoed from the outer corridor, accompanied by the distinct smell of warm sugar, toasted pumpkin, and chocolate.
The heavy compartment door slid open, revealing a plump, jovial witch pushing a metal trolley stacked impossibly high with colorful boxes, glass jars, and steaming baskets.
"Anything off the cart, dears?" she asked kindly, resting her hands on the brass handle.
Harry stood up immediately, brushing a stray chess fragment off his trousers. "Oh, yes please!"
The trolley lady smiled warmly as Harry stepped up to inspect the spread. While he had brought along a few of the specialized treats Sirius had bought him in Diagon Alley, he had left the vast majority of his stash back home for Abigail to raid, which was an oversight on his account. Now, staring at the sheer variety on the cart, he was eager to restock his subspace pouch for the long term.
"How much am I allowed to take?" Harry asked, his tone a smooth blend of polite innocence and genuine curiosity.
The trolley witch chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, as much as you can pay for, dear. What'll it be?"
Harry grinned. Perfect.
"In that case," Harry began, pointing to the various sections, "I'll take twenty packs of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, 16 packs of Licorice Wands, and let's say... 17 packs of Chocolate Frogs. How many come in a pack?"
"Eighteen in each, dear," she replied, her eyebrows pulling up slightly as she began shifting the items to the top counter.
"Excellent," Harry said smoothly. "I'll also take a dozen bottles of Butterbeer, six packs of Jelly Slugs, twenty packs of Cauldron Cakes, and ten packs of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum." He paused, his bright green eyes scanning the lower shelves. "Do you have anything else?"
The witch blinked, her initial amusement faltering into sheer confusion as she tried to gauge whether this polite eleven-year-old was indulging in a wild childish fantasy or actually making an order. "Acid Pops, Sugar Quills, and Chocolate Cauldrons," she said slowly. "Dear... are you quite sure you want that many?"
Harry offered her a brilliant, serene smile. "Oh, absolutely. Let's do 3 bottles of Acid Pops, ten packs of Sugar Quills and twenty packs of Chocolate Cauldron."
The trolley witch's hands hovered in mid-air above the confectionery mountain. She pulled a stubby pencil and a piece of parchment from her apron pocket, hurriedly tallying up the bulk boxes and individual crates.
"Well... that's... that is quite an extraordinary purchase," she murmured, doing the mental conversion twice to be certain. She looked up at Harry with a hesitant, cautious expression, unsure if she was about to face a very embarrassing apology. "All told, young gentleman, that comes to... two hundred and ninety-eight Galleons and five Sickles."
Across the compartment, Ron choked on air.
"Hold on a moment," Harry said smoothly.
Instead of pulling out a massive, impractical mountain of heavy gold coins, Harry reached into his inner jacket pocket and drew out a crisp, heavy parchment transaction slip stamped with the official crest of Gringotts. With a swift movement, he filled out the total amount, tapped the corner with his thumb to imprint his magical signature, and signed his name cleanly at the bottom.
He handed the parchment slip directly to the trolley witch.
The witch took the slip, her eyes darting down to the signature at the bottom. Her breath hitched slightly as she read the bold, clear writing: Harry Potter.
"Well… You cleaned out almost 20% of my yearly stock young man," she said, recovering her professional composure with a sharp, delighted intake of breath. "Let me get everything in order for you!" With that she started taking out packs from her own subspace pouch and placing them on the seat.
As the witch finished handing over the final crates, Harry smoothly guided each box straight into his open pocket, where his subspace pouch seamlessly absorbed the massive haul without creating a single bulge or cluttering the floor.
When the witch finally closed the compartment door and pushed her drastically lighter trolley down the hallway, the space was entirely clear, save for four cool bottles of Butterbeer, a pack of Chocolate Frogs, and a box of Chocolate Cauldrons sitting neatly on the small table between them.
Ron stared at the table, then at Harry's coat pocket, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a landed trout.
"Blimey, Harry!" Ron finally exploded, his voice cracking slightly in sheer shock. "Two hundred and ninety-eight Galleons?! Mate, you could have bought a top-tier racing broom like the Nimbus 2000!"
Harry chuckled, stepping over to grab the first crate and sliding it onto the plush velvet seat between them. "I'm stocking up, Ron. I won't be heading back home until the Christmas holidays, so it's best to be properly prepared."
Ron shook his head in absolute disbelief, staring at the pack of Chocolate Frogs and Chocolate Cauldron as if they were hallucinated. "Prepared for what? The Great Hogwarts Sweets Famine of 1991?"
"It's not just for me," Harry said, settling back into his corner seat with an easy grin. "I've got you, the twins and Percy to share it with, don't I?"
Ron froze, his hand hovering inches above a box of Sugar Quills. He blinked, clearly caught completely off guard, his freckled face registering total bewilderment. "You're... you're sharing it? With us?"
Harry looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Ron, do you seriously expect me to eat three hundred Chocolate Frogs and 156 bottles of Butterbeer all by myself? My mum would somehow sense it from back home and fly to the castle just to ground me."
A broad, genuine laugh burst out of Ron, the tension instantly evaporating from his shoulders. "Well, no, but... blimey, Harry. Most blokes who have that kind of gold would guard a pile like this like a Hungarian Horntail sitting on its nest."
Harry shrugged casually, unwrapping a pack of Every Flavor Beans and popping a light green one into his mouth. Apple. Lucky.
"What's the point of having a mountain of treats if you can't enjoy it with your friends?" Harry asked, tossing a fresh box of Chocolate Frogs directly into Ron's lap. "Besides, I'd get sick of sugar before I even cleared the first crate."
Ron caught the box with practiced hands, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Mate, you are unbelievable. You're like Santa Claus, only younger and with better hair!"
He eagerly tore open the Frog wrapping, letting the chocolate amphibian hop once before snapping it up. "Oh, brilliant-I got Merlin! Do you collect these?"
"I do," Harry nodded, pulling a box of beans toward himself. "Though I'm mostly looking for rare historical figures.."
Ron stared at the Merlin card in his hand for a second before looking up, his expression thoughtful. "My granddad had a massive collection, but he was missing the big two. Everyone is, really. My brother Bill says Agrippa and Ptolemy don't even exist in circulation anymore. I reckon they're just legends at this point."
Harry paused, a casual, knowing smirk spreading across his face as he set down a box of Licorice Wands. "Agrippa and Ptolemy? I have both."
Ron froze. The half-eaten Chocolate Frog in his hand hovered inches from his mouth, his eyes widening to the size of Galleons. The entire compartment seemed to go dead silent, save for the rhythmic chugging of the train engine outside.
"You... what?" Ron whispered, his voice cracking violently. "Say that again?"
"I have Agrippa and Ptolemy," Harry repeated smoothly, leaning back against the plush velvet seat. "In my collection box back in my trunk."
Ron dropped his pasty onto his lap, springing straight off his seat as if someone had placed a lit Cheering Charm under his trousers. "Are you out of your mind?!" he shrieked, his face turning as bright red as his hair. "You can't just say that like you're talking about the weather, Harry! Agrippa and Ptolemy?! Nobody has those! There are entire international auctions where collectors trade mansions for a rumor of a torn corner of an Agrippa!"
Harry chuckled, thoroughly amused by the total meltdown happening across from him. "I'm serious, Ron. I've got both in mint condition."
Ron grabbed the edges of his own head, pacing the narrow space between their seats like a caged animal, breathing heavily. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?! That's like... that's like finding a living dragon egg in your bowl of porridge! Nobody in the history of the modern wizarding world has ever confirmed a complete set because those two are basically mythic! How in the world do you have them?!"
"My parents gave them to me," Harry explained casually. "Vernon and Petunia had their own personal collection from when they were younger, and they handed the entire set down to me as a starting point when I turned nine. I think I've got roughly a hundred cards in total, across different rarities."
"Your parents just... handed over Agrippa and Ptolemy like a box of hand-me-down socks?" Ron squeaked, looking like he was about to faint from sheer sensory overload. "What else is in that box?! Tell me right now before my heart stops!"
Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully, counting off his fingers. "Let's see. Beyond those two, I think the rarest ones in the binder are a Founder's Edition Godric Gryffindor, a first-run Gellert Grindelwald, and a pristine Herpo the Foul."
Ron staggered backward and collapsed hard onto his seat, staring at Harry in absolute, unadulterated awe, as if staring at a ancient deity. "Founder's Edition Gryffindor... Herpo the Foul... Harry, you're sitting on a collection that could literally buy a Quidditch stadium! Show me. Please, mate, I am begging you on my life, let me just look at them! I won't even breathe on the sleeves!"
He reached wildly toward Harry's trunk on the overhead rack, but Harry held up a hand with a light laugh, stopping him in his tracks.
"Not here, Ron," Harry said, his tone firm but teasing. "The train is moving, people are walking down the corridor, and I'm not taking out a nation-defining collection on a moving carriage table where someone could spill Pumpkin Juice on them."
Ron slumped back into his cushion with a dramatic, agonizing groan, covering his face with both hands. "You are absolute evil, Potter. Pure, unadulterated evil. How am I supposed to sit here for the next four hours knowing those cards are sitting three feet above my head?!"
"You'll survive," Harry grinned, tossing Ron another pack of Chocolate Frogs to soothe his nerves. "I'll take the binder out tonight in our dormitory once we're settled in. You can inspect every single one of them then."
They were happily munching on sweets, the colorful wrappers and empty foil boxes piling up into a small mountain on the compartment table. Harry glanced at the door, his internal clock ticking down the minutes. Any moment now, he thought with a quiet smirk.
Right on cue, the heavy glass door slid open with a sharp rattle.
Standing in the doorway was a teary-eyed Neville Longbottom, his face flushed and his posture slumped in sheer distress. Beside him stood a young girl with bushy brown hair, exceptionally large front teeth, and an intensely focused expression that made her look as though she had just been assigned a high-stakes mission by the Wizengamot itself. Hermione Granger had arrived.
"Sorry to bother you," Neville sniffled, his voice trembling as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. "But have either of you seen a toad at all? Trevor's gone missing again."
Harry and Ron both shook their heads.
"Lost him, have you?" Ron asked around a mouthful of sweets. He reached into a fresh box and popped a yellow Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean into his mouth. A split second later, his entire face twisted into a mask of utter revulsion, his ears flushing bright red. "Ugh, bloody hell, earwax! I swear the factory makes those just to spite us."
Neville let out a small, miserable whimper, his shoulders shaking. "He keeps escaping! My Gran's going to be so cross with me. I'll never find him before we reach the station!"
Ron leaned back casually, tossing the rest of the yellow beans onto the table. "Maybe he's just trying out for the Frog Choir early, mate. Can't blame him for getting a head start."
Neville didn't laugh, looking even more desolate, but Harry offered him a warm, reassuring smile. "Want me to help you look for him, Neville?"
Neville glanced nervously at the girl beside him. "Oh, no, it's fine," he mumbled softly. "Hermione's already helping me search the train."
"Trust me," Harry said with an easy, confident grin, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It'll be much faster if I lend a hand."
Hermione's eyes narrowed instantly, her bushy hair practically bustling with indignant energy. Her sharp brown eyes locked onto Harry with the precision of a hawk, her chin tilting upward.
"Excuse me?" she said, her voice crisp, bossy, and immensely articulate. "Are you implying that my search methodology is inadequate? I've already checked three carriages with a completely systematic approach!"
Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, a breath of genuine laughter bubbling in his throat. "Not at all, Miss...? I'm sure your search is flawless."
"Hermione," she corrected briskly, drawing herself up to her full height as if delivering an opening statement in court. "Hermione Granger. And who might you two be?"
"Harry," he replied, pointing a thumb at his chest. He then gestured across the seat toward his red-haired friend, who was busy washing down the taste of earwax with a gulp of Pumpkin Juice. "And this here is Ronald Weasley, though he usually prefers Ron."
At the sound of Harry's name, both Neville and Hermione froze. Neville's jaw dropped so low it nearly hit his collarbone, his eyes widening in complete disbelief. Hermione's sharp posture momentarily faltered, her mouth opening and closing as her mental catalog of wizarding literature violently collided with the boy sitting casually in front of her.
"Harry Potter?" Hermione repeated, her tone hovering in a bizarre space between breathless awe and intense, skeptical scrutiny. "Are you really? I know all about you, of course! I bought a few extra books for background reading, and you're mentioned in A History of Magic, Modern Magical History, and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts!"
"That's me," Harry said with an easy shrug, entirely unphased by the recitation of his bibliography. "Though I wouldn't trust everything you read in those books. Half of those authors never even spoke to my family, and the other half just made up dramatic details to sell more copies. I'm not nearly as interesting as they make me sound."
"Yeah, right," Ron snorted from his side of the compartment, leaning forward with a teasing grin. "He's just a perfectly normal guy who casually hoards mythical treasure."
Neville's mouth continued to open and close like a landed trout, utterly stunned to be standing in front of the legendary Boy Who Lived. Hermione's sharp gaze flicked rapidly between Harry, the mountain of expensive sweets on the table, and Ron, her sharp mind clearly recalculating every single piece of information she had absorbed over the last month.
"Well... nevertheless," Hermione stammered, quickly trying to regain her authoritative composure, though her voice lacked its initial bossy edge. "It's... it's very nice to meet you both."
"Likewise," Harry smiled smoothly, breaking the heavy silence with a playful wink toward Neville. "Now, back to that lost toad of yours. Do you want me to help you track down Trevor, or are you going to continue searching compartment by compartment till you are done with the entire train?"
Neville blinked, coming out of his daze. "I... I mean, if you really don't mind, Harry! I'd really appreciate it!"
"Right then," Harry said, quickly devoured another Chocolate Cauldron. "Let's find your runaway amphibian before we hit the school gates."