"Good day, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, Hermione."
"It's good to see you, Altair." Mr. Granger smiled. "We were just worrying. Hermione has never taken a train on her own before."
"There's no need to worry, Mr. Granger. Hermione is a very clever girl. I think we'll be able to look after each other."
Altair glanced at Hermione as he said it. She pressed her lips together, and her cheeks went slightly pink.
"You really are a good boy."
Mrs. Granger looked at him with open approval. Mr. Granger checked his watch. "All right, it's almost time. You two should get on the train."
"Goodbye, Mum, Dad. I'll be back at Christmas."
Hermione waved to her parents. Altair said his farewells as well, and then the two of them passed through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The platform was full. A deep red steam train sat quietly on the tracks, a sign on the front reading Hogwarts Express, Eleven O'Clock. Around them, families were saying their goodbyes, owls were hooting from somewhere inside the crowd, and a cat cried out now and then from between the legs of the passing witches and wizards.
Altair and Hermione pushed through and found a quieter carriage toward the back, claiming an empty compartment before anyone else could. Altair hoisted his trunk into the rack above, then helped slide Hermione's under the seat. She leaned out into the corridor for a moment, looking over the other students with assessing eyes, found nothing that particularly surprised her, and came back to sit down.
"Altair, did you do any reading this past month? I read several books at home and even tried using a few spells. There are already some that I can use quite skillfully."
Her eyes were bright and her voice carried that particular note that sat somewhere between eagerness and challenge.
"Really? That's impressive."
Altair meant it. Then he added, "I've studied some magic too, but there are certain spells I find rather difficult. I probably still can't use them yet."
That was entirely true. Bone Dragon Summoning, Lich King Summoning, the higher branches of holy magic and life magic, the more advanced elemental spells. Those remained out of reach. His magical reserves simply weren't there yet.
"There are indeed a few difficult spells in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 that I haven't fully mastered either. Perhaps once classes begin, we'll learn the proper technique for casting them."
Hermione offered this generously, then moved on to discussing the finer points of a few specific spells, the wand angles, the timing, what the textbook got slightly wrong.
Altair listened. For him it was all elementary, he'd worked through the entire Grade 1 book in about ten minutes, but he engaged with it properly and, where her understanding had small gaps, pointed them out carefully.
Hermione's expression went through several stages. Mild displeasure first, which softened into surprise, and then settled into something that looked very much like admiration.
You're Muggle-born too, with no one to teach you. So how are you this good?
They were still talking when the train whistle sounded and the platform began to slide away behind the windows.
The compartment door opened. A round-faced boy with a red flush to his cheeks stepped in, looking apologetic before he'd said a word.
"Sorry. There aren't any seats left in the other compartments."
"That's all right, you can sit over here."
Hermione stood up immediately and gave up the seat on her side, then settled down next to Altair, her cheeks a shade warmer than before.
"Thanks. My name is Neville Longbottom."
Neville stowed his trunk and then, with the careful movements of someone braced for judgment, produced a toad from inside it. He glanced between Hermione and Altair.
"His name is Trevor. He's a very good toad. I hope you don't mind."
"It's fine. My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger."
She said it without a flicker of distaste, which visibly relieved him.
"Altair Shelby."
Altair nodded toward the toad with the same indifference he'd have shown any other pet. Then he added, "You'd better shut the door, though. Otherwise Trevor might decide to explore."
Neville slapped his forehead, thanked him, and pulled the compartment door firmly shut.
A brief quiet settled over the three of them. Then Hermione asked, "Are your parents wizards?"
Neville looked up, realized the question was directed at him, and nodded. "Yes. Both of them."
He left it there. His parents had been tortured into madness by Death Eaters and had spent years in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's. He had been raised by his grandmother. None of that felt like something to bring up with strangers on a train.
Hermione noticed that he was guarded and didn't press. She turned back to Altair and picked up where they'd left off, moving on to Hogwarts itself.
Altair had never read Hogwarts, A History, but he'd read the original books and seen the films, which amounted to the same thing in practice. The conversation came easily enough, and Hermione, for her part, had clearly read the book more than once.