Damian smiled, leaning back against his seat. "Is he very special?"
Jerry's face fell, looking utterly disappointed. "He's very ordinary. If I hadn't overheard the Weasleys talking on the platform, I wouldn't have even realized he was Harry Potter. He doesn't look like a Savior at all."
"But you know, he's the one who defeated..." Jerry paused, lowering his voice, "defeated You-Know-Who!"
"Perhaps that was actually his parents' achievement." Damian casually took a wrapped sandwich out of his pocket. "Want one? I have plenty."
Jerry took the sandwich, looking genuinely surprised. "That's the first time I've ever heard that perspective."
Damian took out a second sandwich, took a bite, and shrugged. "The night You-Know-Who disappeared, his parents were right there with him. The Potters were killed by You-Know-Who that exact same night."
Jerry grew animated, his eyes widening as if he had just uncovered a massive conspiracy.
"You-Know-Who disappeared right after they died," Jerry muttered, piecing it together. "Speaking of which, it really is much more plausible that the Potters and You-Know-Who perished together in some massive magical backlash. That makes way more sense than a newborn baby being a Savior! But why does everyone think it was Harry?"
"Who knows? Perhaps the people at the time simply needed a living Savior to rally behind." Damian didn't remember the exact canon details. In his past life, he had only seen two of the movies, and most of his lore knowledge came from internet forums.
When he had first transmigrated to this world, Lord Voldemort was still at the height of his power, but Damian had been far too young to participate in or witness any of those events.
Just then, the compartment door slid open. A young witch with bushy brown hair grasped the handle, peering inside with a bossy, searching look.
"Has either of you seen a toad?" she asked briskly. She gestured to a round-faced, tearful boy standing just behind her. "Neville's lost one."
Both Damian and Jerry shook their heads.
Seeing Neville looking like he was on the verge of a breakdown, Damian offered a comforting smile. "Don't worry. A magical pet will usually return to its master on its own."
The little witch nodded, looking somewhat disappointed. "Sorry to bother you, then."
She turned, intending to continue her search in the next carriage. But before she could slide the door shut, a dark shadow darted straight through her legs.
The blur leaped into the compartment and dove directly into Damian's lap.
Once she saw it clearly, the little witch's eyes lit up. It was a sleek black cat with a pair of stunning, intelligent blue eyes.
"Nox, what is that in your mouth?" Damian felt a sudden, sinking premonition. He could clearly see the webbed leg of an amphibian sticking out from the corner of the Kneazle's jaws.
Nox purred, rubbed his arched back against Damian's chest, and proudly dropped his prize onto the small table by the window.
It was a toad.
Neville stared at the toad lying belly-up and motionless on the table. His expression underwent a drastic, rapid-fire transformation.
Damian watched in silent amusement as Neville's face morphed from grief, to blank confusion, to sheer shock, to fiery anger, and finally right back to devastating grief—all in the span of three seconds.
If this had been recorded and posted online in Damian's past life, netizens would have hailed it as an Oscar-worthy masterclass in acting.
Damian quickly reached out to inspect the casualty.
The toad had merely been playing dead. The moment Damian scooped it into his hand, it started kicking its legs vigorously. A quick check revealed absolutely no external injuries.
Nox didn't hurt it, Damian thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the Kneazle was smart enough not to actually eat the other students' pets.
"Like i said, a magical pet will return to its master's side." Damian smiled, handing the wriggling toad back to Neville. "Though sometimes, the way they return is quite unexpected."
Seeing that Trevor was completely unharmed, Neville's tears instantly gave way to a relieved smile. He hugged the toad tightly to his chest, repeatedly bowing his head. "Thank you! Oh, thank you!"
The bushy-haired witch also breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She had been terrified that the toad had been bitten to death by the beautiful black cat. Cats might be cute, but hunting small animals was in their nature.
Curious, she stepped fully into the compartment and crouched beside Damian's seat.
"Is this your cat? His eyes are absolutely beautiful," she said softly. She paused, admiring the sleek coat. "His fur is lovely, too."
"His name is Nox. You can pet him, he won't bite," Damian offered, seeing the girl's eager intent.
Delighted, the little witch reached out and gently stroked the fur along Nox's back.
Nox gave her a brief, calculating glance before deciding she was acceptable. He lay down comfortably on the seat and began to meticulously groom his front paw.
After petting the cat for a moment, the girl seemed to remember her manners. She stood up straighter and cleared her throat. "My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. I'm a first-year."
Just as I thought, Damian mused. This bushy-haired girl was the Savior's famous best friend.
"Damian Black. And this is Jerry Abbott," Damian introduced, gesturing across the compartment. "We are both third-years in Slytherin House."
Jerry offered an awkward, tight-lipped smile and a stiff wave. Despite being quite chatty in private with Damian, he suffered from social anxiety and was notoriously reserved around strangers.
Neville, who had just managed to calm down, physically recoiled at the word. "Sly... Slytherin!" he squeaked, suddenly taking a large step backward toward the corridor.
Damian chuckled, highly amused. "Neville, please relax."
Neville glanced between Damian and Jerry with visible caution, his voice trembling. "My Gran often says that Slytherin is the house with all the Dark Wizards..."
Damian smirked and shot Jerry a dry look. "Our House reputation really does precede us, doesn't it?"
Jerry just rolled his eyes, refusing to engage with the first-years.
"Speaking of which, Gryffindor doesn't necessarily produce fewer Dark Wizards than Slytherin," Damian said, his tone turning analytical as he looked back at the younger students. "In fact, proportionally speaking, Slytherin is currently the house with the fewest active Dark Wizards."
Seeing Hermione's thoroughly confused gaze, Damian elaborated.
"It has been a decade of peace since You-Know-Who fell. The wizarding population has grown significantly. Yet, among Hogwarts graduates each year, less than one-tenth manage to secure a job at the Ministry of Magic. The same goes for other mainstream wizarding professions. Not every student can find stable work after graduation."
Damian leaned forward, his voice calm and reasoned. "In times of peace, the wizards who cannot find legitimate work are the demographic most likely to turn to the Dark Arts for survival. Meanwhile, most Slytherin students are the heirs of wealthy, established wizarding families. Finding a lucrative job—or simply inheriting an estate—is much easier for them than for wizards born into Muggle families who have no connections."
Hearing this was like a bolt from the blue for Hermione.
She had never even considered the wizarding economy or her future job prospects! Her mind immediately began to race, panicking over whether she would be forced to go back to the Muggle world and take over her parents' dental practice if she couldn't secure magical employment.
Neville bravely tried to argue. "But my Gran said that almost all the Death Eaters were from Slytherin!"
"You-Know-Who has fallen," Damian countered smoothly, giving Neville a meaningful, piercing look. "The Death Eaters who were actually convicted are either dead or rotting in Azkaban. And legally speaking, those who aren't locked in Azkaban are recognized by the Ministry as upstanding citizens, not Dark Wizards."
Neville's round face quickly turned beet red. He desperately wanted to refute Damian's logic, but he didn't know enough about the law or the post-war trials to even know where to start.
"But how are the Houses sorted, then?" Hermione interrupted, her anxiety mounting rapidly. "Are there differences in the curriculum between the Houses? Is there a difference in the quality of education? Will my House placement affect my ability to find a job?!"
Damian smiled, thoroughly enjoying playing the part of the mysterious, intimidating upperclassman.
"There is a test during the Sorting," he said vaguely, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "As for the rest... you'll find out if you survive the test."
"There's an entrance test?!" Hermione squeaked, looking even more horrified.
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