With the practiced ease of those who had long mastered the art of appearing utterly unfazed, Harry, Charlus, and Dorea Potter stepped gracefully from the emerald flames of the Leaky Cauldron's Floo network, brushing off the last vestiges of soot from their immaculate robes.
The inn was alive with the early morning bustle of witches and wizards preparing for their own journeys—some savoring a last warm meal before departing, others haggling over last-minute supplies, and at least one elderly wizard in the corner animatedly berating a cauldron for what seemed to be a personal betrayal. The thick scent of butterbeer, freshly baked bread, and faintly singed magic filled the air.
Charlus surveyed the room with the quiet intensity of a battle-hardened general, his gaze as sharp as a well-honed blade. Dorea, in contrast, moved with the effortless grace of a queen holding court—her piercing black eyes scanning the room like a woman who knew she was the most formidable presence in it. Harry, though still learning, carried himself with an ease that suggested he was keenly aware he had inherited a legacy of both charm and devastation in equal measure.
"Ah," Charlus murmured, catching sight of their waiting party. "There they are. The Blacks, trying their utmost to be inconspicuous. And failing. Spectacularly."
Indeed, in a shadowed corner sat Sirius Black, his broad-shouldered, ruggedly handsome form utterly incapable of blending in, no matter how he slouched. Beside him, Amelia Bones exuded the crisp authority of a woman who could dismantle both laws and men with equal precision. And nestled between them was Susan Bones, who had clearly inherited her aunt's sharp mind but tempered it with an enthusiasm that only an eleven-year-old on the cusp of adventure could possess.
Harry caught Susan's eager wave and grinned back, striding toward them with the confidence of someone who had long accepted that he was the main character in most situations.
"Harry! Over here!" Susan called, practically bouncing in her seat.
Charlus led the way with the air of a man who was about to make an entrance worth remembering, while Dorea followed with the silent, knowing amusement of a queen indulging her subjects. They reached the table just as Sirius—who had been nursing a mug of coffee with the soulful weariness of a man unaccustomed to early mornings—looked up.
"Well, if it isn't the little prince himself," Sirius drawled, ruffling Harry's hair with a smirk that said he knew exactly how much it annoyed his godson. "Ready for the big leagues, kiddo?"
Harry swatted his hand away with a huff. "If the 'big leagues' involve handling you before breakfast, I've been ready since birth."
Charlus let out an amused snort as he pulled out a chair. "A sharp tongue, as expected. You must be so proud, Sirius."
Sirius smirked, clinking his coffee mug against Amelia's tea cup. "Oh, beyond measure. You should hear his sarcasm when he's actually trying."
Dorea took her seat with a regal air, casting a scrutinizing look over Sirius before turning to Amelia. "My dear Amelia, you have my sincerest admiration. It cannot be easy managing both your duties at the DMLE and this... oversized Labrador."
Amelia's lips twitched in amusement. "It's a delicate balance. Though, between us, I've found that the threat of paperwork is an effective leash."
Sirius gasped in mock betrayal. "Et tu, Amelia?"
Susan, meanwhile, had turned eagerly to Harry. "I can't wait to get to Hogwarts! Did you hear about the moving staircases? And the ghosts? And the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall? Oh! And—"
Harry grinned at her enthusiasm. "Oh, absolutely. I'm expecting at least one near-death experience within the first week. Two, if we're lucky."
Susan giggled, practically vibrating in her seat. "We have to sit together on the train! And you have to introduce me to your friends—Neville, right? And Draco? Oh! And you know Daphne, too!"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, we'll probably all meet up at the station. Though, fair warning, Draco's an acquired taste."
Sirius laughed. "That's one way to put it. That boy has inherited the Malfoy ability to make a dramatic entrance. I'd bet five Galleons he'll be swishing a cloak before the Sorting Hat even touches his head."
Charlus hummed. "Ten Galleons says he dramatically tosses his hair while doing it."
Dorea arched a brow. "Fifteen says he somehow manages both while delivering an unnecessarily long-winded introduction."
Sirius grinned. "Twenty says Lucius trained him for this exact moment."
Harry smirked. "I'll take that bet."
Amelia sighed, shaking her head. "We are betting on the theatrical inclinations of an eleven-year-old, aren't we?"
Sirius shrugged. "It's a slow morning."
Charlus leaned back in his chair, studying Harry with a knowing glint in his eye. "And you, Harry? What's your strategy for the Sorting? A quiet entrance, perhaps? Something dignified?"
Harry tilted his head as if considering. "I was thinking of dramatically flinging myself onto the stool and whispering ominously to the hat."
Charlus nodded approvingly. "Respectable. A touch theatrical, but not undignified."
Dorea smirked. "That is, if you survive the train ride without setting something on fire."
Sirius grinned. "Oh, don't worry. That's my godson. If there's trouble, he'll find it."
Harry grinned back. "You taught me well."
Charlus rolled his eyes and muttered something suspiciously close to, "God help us all."
Just then, the sound of the inn door swinging open caught their attention. The next arrivals had come, and the morning was only just beginning.
With easy camaraderie and a shared legacy of sharp wit, sharp minds, and sharper tongues, the group settled in, waiting for more of their friends to join them before the journey to Platform 9¾ truly began.
—
The Leaky Cauldron's familiar warmth and scent of butterbeer and fresh bread wrapped around the gathering like a well-worn cloak. Charlus and Dorea Potter sat with effortless poise, the former exuding the commanding presence of a man who had once bent the Wizengamot to his will, while the latter observed with a regal grace that suggested she could, at any moment, flay someone alive with nothing more than a well-timed arch of her brow.
Across from them, Sirius lounged like a king on holiday, legs stretched out, his smirk firmly in place, radiating the roguish charm that had once caused a record-breaking number of Hogwarts detentions. Beside him, Amelia Black, sharp-eyed and effortlessly formidable, monitored the room with the air of a woman who could spot a lie before it was even fully formed.
Between them, Susan and Harry sat engaged in a rapid-fire exchange of insults so practiced and seamless it was practically an art form.
"So, Potter, are you ready to embarrass yourself in front of the entire school?" Susan teased, her blue eyes twinkling.
Harry leaned back, smirking. "You mean like you did when you tried to hex me last week and somehow managed to set your own robes on fire?"
Susan crossed her arms with an indignant huff. "That was a strategic miscalculation."
Charlus let out a dry chuckle. "If that's what they're calling abject failure these days, I'm starting to understand why the modern generation lacks discipline."
Sirius snorted. "Oh, come on, old man. We all know Harry gets his razor-sharp wit from me."
Dorea sipped her tea, entirely unimpressed. "A bold claim, considering you spent seven years at Hogwarts using the same five insults."
Before Sirius could launch into an indignant rebuttal, the door swung open, and in swept Andromeda Tonks with all the grace of a queen who had been forced to endure far too much nonsense for one morning. Behind her, Ted carried an absurdly large trunk with the ease of a man who had long accepted his lot in life. Trailing them, hair currently a striking shade of bubblegum pink, was Nymphadora Tonks, her grin wide and entirely unrepentant.
"Morning, degenerates," she greeted, making a beeline for Harry and Susan before pulling them into a quick hug. "Ready to take over Hogwarts?"
"We were born ready," Harry declared, only to wince when Dorea reached over and flicked his ear with a graceful, yet merciless, motion.
"Confidence is admirable, dear," she said smoothly, "but hubris is unbecoming."
Ted chuckled as he set the trunk down, dusting off his hands. "And here I thought you were the well-behaved one, Harry."
Harry gestured to Sirius. "Blame him."
Sirius feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Andromeda arched a brow. "Oh, please. You've been corrupting him since he was six."
Tonks flopped onto the seat beside them, reaching for a scone. "So, tell me, have we officially decided which house we're terrorizing?"
Susan rolled her eyes. "You mean which house we'll be sorted into?"
"Same thing," Tonks replied breezily.
Amelia, having remained mostly silent up to this point, finally spoke, her tone amused. "I would suggest restraint, but I know it would be a waste of breath."
Charlus exhaled, shaking his head. "It certainly would. I've long since given up expecting Potter men to have any sense of decorum."
Harry leaned toward him with a smirk. "That's funny, Grandpa Charlus, because I seem to recall hearing stories about you dueling three people at once because they insulted Grandma."
Charlus merely sipped his tea, entirely unrepentant. "That was different."
Andromeda took her seat, gracefully stealing a biscuit from Ted's plate as he sighed in long-suffering acceptance. "Honestly, the real surprise here is that no one has been hexed yet."
Harry grinned. "Give it time."
As more families began arriving, the Leaky Cauldron grew ever livelier. The anticipation for the journey ahead crackled in the air, thick with excitement, laughter, and the promise of adventures yet to come.
—
The Leaky Cauldron's door swung open once more, letting in a crisp breeze and two very distinct figures. Augusta Longbottom strode in first, as regal as a queen inspecting her court, her vulture-topped hat perched at a perfect angle of silent judgment. Behind her, shuffling slightly but holding his head high, was Neville Longbottom, looking like a lad caught between excitement and sheer mortal terror.
"Good morning, Augusta," Charlus greeted smoothly, standing as though he were in a duel, his sharp gaze appraising her with the cool civility of an old Pureblood patriarch. "Fashionably late, I see."
Augusta sniffed, unimpressed. "Punctuality is a virtue, Charlus. But so is ensuring one's grandson is properly prepared for his journey. Neville insisted on going over his trunk twice." She turned her keen gaze on Neville. "Thoroughness is not to be discouraged."
Neville flushed but managed a sheepish smile. "Gran, you made me go over it a third time."
Sirius, lounging like he had all the time in the world, smirked. "Ah, Longbottom efficiency. At this rate, lad, you'll be packed and repacked so well you won't even need a Sorting Hat—you'll just end up in Ravenclaw by default."
Neville shot Harry a glance as if asking for backup. Harry, ever the faithful comrade-in-arms, leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, "Mate, I swear, if you get resorted into Ravenclaw because of 'excessive luggage preparation,' I'm starting a petition."
Susan, ever the diplomat, giggled. "Neville, don't listen to them. It's better to be prepared than to end up realizing you forgot something essential, like, I don't know… robes?" She shot a knowing look at Tonks, who immediately scowled.
"Okay, okay, so I forgot my robes once!" Tonks huffed, her bubblegum-pink hair shifting slightly to match her indignation. "Not my fault! I got distracted!"
Dorea, sipping her tea like the queen of all she surveyed, arched a finely shaped brow. "Distracted, Nymphadora? Was it by the pursuit of scholarly wisdom, or, as I suspect, by something far less noble?"
Tonks groaned. "Don't call me that, Auntie Dorea. And for your information, I was working on my—" she wiggled her fingers dramatically "—'Metamorphmagus Mastery.'"
Andromeda sighed, shaking her head. "You were trying to make your hair match your cat, Nymphadora."
Ted snorted. "That poor creature was purple for weeks."
Harry clapped Neville on the back, grinning. "See, Nev? Your gran might have you overprepared, but at least you won't show up in just your pajamas with lavender hair."
Augusta, who had been listening with the patience of someone surrounded by perpetual nonsense, gave a curt nod. "Indeed. Practicality over vanity, as I always say."
Charlus let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, come now, Augusta. We both know you took a great deal of care selecting your hat this morning."
The Longbottom matriarch's lips twitched ever so slightly, a near-smile. "Presentation is not vanity, Charlus. It is an art."
Sirius grinned like a wolf. "Exactly, which is why I look this good at all times."
Amelia, who had been quietly watching the banter with the amused patience of someone used to wrangling both politicians and Aurors, finally spoke. "Sirius, there's a distinct difference between 'art' and 'utter chaos.' You, my dear cousin, are the latter."
Sirius gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Amelia! Et tu?"
Harry, eyes glinting mischievously, leaned back and drawled, "Face it, Padfoot. You're basically a walking bad decision with good hair."
Dorea let out a laugh—rich, smooth, and utterly amused. "A very apt description."
Ted, shaking his head with a grin, turned to Neville. "You excited, mate? Nerves?"
Neville straightened, though he was still a bit pink. "Yeah. Both."
Susan beamed. "You'll do great, Nev. We're all in this together."
Harry nudged him. "And if anything goes wrong, we'll just blame Sirius."
Neville blinked. "Wait, what?"
Sirius, indignant, spluttered. "Oi! What did I do?"
Charlus, entirely deadpan, sipped his tea. "Merely existed, I assume."
Andromeda sighed, ever the reasonable one. "That's fair."
The group shared a hearty laugh, the easy camaraderie between them filling the room with warmth. The Leaky Cauldron bustled around them, but they remained in their own world, waiting for the next arrival, savoring these last moments before the Hogwarts Express called them away on a brand-new adventure.
—
The Leaky Cauldron's door swung open once more, ushering in the final arrivals of their ever-growing party. The Greengrass family entered with effortless grace, Cyrus Greengrass moving like a man who knew he could buy and sell the entire room if he felt like it. His wife, Soleil, was his perfect counterpart—regal, poised, and not one to suffer fools gladly. Their daughters, Daphne and Astoria, followed close behind, Daphne wearing her usual look of quiet confidence, while Astoria, her 10-year-old sister, bounced on her toes with excitement.
Right behind them came the Davis family. Olivia Davis, sharp-eyed and radiating effortless authority, had the kind of presence that made lesser men reconsider their life choices. Her daughter, Tracey, shot Harry and his friends a smirk the moment she saw them, already eager to stir up some mischief.
Bringing up the rear were the Abbotts. Giffard Abbott, looking every bit the proud father, had the air of a man who had seen it all and could still crack a joke about it. His wife, Damara, had a warm yet no-nonsense demeanor that suggested she could be your best friend or your worst nightmare, depending on how you conducted yourself. Their daughter, Hannah, waved excitedly at the group, blonde curls bouncing as she rushed over to Susan and Daphne.
"About time you all showed up," Sirius drawled, leaning lazily against the table. "We were starting to wonder if Daphne was fashionably late, or if she just wanted to make an entrance."
Daphne arched a single, unimpressed eyebrow. "Unlike some, I prefer quality over dramatics."
"Oh, sweetheart," Sirius grinned, "I can do both."
Charlus sighed as if the mere presence of such idiocy exhausted him. "Sirius, you lack the refinement necessary to truly master dramatics. You're more of an… enthusiastic amateur."
"Oi!" Sirius placed a hand over his chest as if truly wounded. "That's rich coming from a man whose glare alone could freeze a Hungarian Horntail mid-flight."
"Dignity is an art form," Charlus said coolly, brushing an invisible speck from his sleeve.
Cyrus Greengrass smirked, exchanging a glance with Charlus. "It appears I've arrived just in time for a battle of wits. I trust Sirius is unarmed?"
Sirius scoffed. "You wound me, Cy. We both know I could charm the leaves off the Whomping Willow if I wanted to."
"You'd certainly try," Andromeda muttered, sipping her tea. "And then we'd have to explain why the bloody tree was throwing itself at unsuspecting students."
Tracey grinned. "This is why Hogwarts needed a hazard pay clause for its staff."
Harry and Tonks snickered as Daphne sighed. "Is this what we have to look forward to for the next seven years? Because I swear, if Hogwarts doesn't have a soundproof library, I'm filing a complaint."
Neville, who had arrived minutes earlier with Augusta, leaned in. "You'll get used to it."
Tonks grinned. "Or you won't, and that's what makes it fun."
Augusta, ever the picture of unshakable dignity, patted Neville's shoulder. "The key is to pick your battles, dear. And remember, sarcasm is your friend."
Charlus nodded sagely. "Indeed. A well-timed quip can be just as devastating as a well-placed curse."
"Or, in Harry's case," Susan piped up, "both at the same time."
"Guilty," Harry admitted cheerfully. "So, are we finally making our way to King's Cross, or are we waiting for another last-minute arrival?"
Dorea, who had been watching the chaos unfold with the practiced patience of a woman used to her husband and his wayward godson, finally clapped her hands. "Yes, well, if the gentlemen are done measuring their wit—" she eyed Charlus, Sirius, and Cyrus pointedly, "—we should make our way to the station before we miss the train entirely."
Ted, who had somehow ended up responsible for most of the luggage, groaned theatrically. "Oh no, let's not rush or anything. I'm only carrying half of Flourish and Blotts on my back."
"I told you to let the children carry their own trunks," Andromeda sighed.
"But then I'd miss out on being a tragic hero," Ted quipped, adjusting his grip on a particularly large suitcase. "Besides, what's the point of having kids if you can't guilt-trip them into carrying their own weight?"
Harry grinned, throwing an arm around Susan and Tonks. "He's got a point."
Tonks nudged him. "You say that, but we all know you're going to charm someone into carrying your trunk the moment we get to the platform."
"Shh," Harry whispered dramatically. "Don't expose my master plan."
With that, the group finally gathered their things and made their way out of the Leaky Cauldron, stepping into Muggle London. The contrast between their flowing robes and the city's modern streets was stark, but none of them paid it any mind. As they neared King's Cross, the anticipation grew, excitement buzzing among the children like a well-cast Lumos.
The entrance to Platform 9 ¾ loomed ahead, and as they approached the barrier, the young witches and wizards exchanged glances, knowing that beyond it, their grand adventure was about to begin.
—
King's Cross Station was as chaotic as ever, filled with the rhythmic clatter of rolling luggage, the hum of hurried conversations, and the occasional wail of a toddler protesting the injustice of travel. Amidst the sea of Muggles, a young girl with bushy brown hair and an air of stubborn determination stood with her parents, looking around with a mixture of excitement and frustration.
"Hermione, are you absolutely certain this is the right place?" Emma Granger, a sharp-eyed woman with an air of quiet authority, asked as she clutched her daughter's shoulder lightly.
"Yes, Mum," Hermione insisted, though her voice held a tinge of doubt as she scrutinized her surroundings. "The book clearly states the Hogwarts Express departs from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. We just have to find it."
Richard Granger, a man who looked as though he could have played rugby professionally in another life, crossed his arms and frowned at the solid barriers between Platforms Nine and Ten. "Right. And you're sure this isn't some sort of elaborate prank, love?"
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Dad, I know it sounds strange, but magic is real, and we just need to—"
"Oi, Potter," a deep, smooth voice interrupted. "We taking bets on how long it'll take before she starts hyperventilating?"
Hermione turned sharply, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Harry Potter. Or, more specifically, the faded yet unmistakable scar on his forehead. "You're Harry Potter!" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
Harry, who was flanked by his grandparents, Charlus and Dorea Potter, along with a retinue of their usual suspects—Sirius Black, Andromeda and Ted Tonks, Amelia Bones, Augusta Longbottom, and their children—grimaced. "Oh, Merlin, not again."
Charlus Potter, a regal-looking man with the sharp, assessing eyes of someone who could verbally eviscerate you for breakfast, arched a brow at his grandson. "You should learn to accept it, lad. Infamy is the price of survival."
Dorea, as elegant and poised as ever, offered Hermione a small smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. I imagine you must be a Muggle-born?"
Hermione nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am. I've read every book I could find about the magical world, but none of them explained how to find the platform."
Sirius, lounging beside Charlus with an aura of dangerous amusement, smirked. "That's because half the wizarding world prefers watching first-years panic. It's a national pastime."
Amelia Bones snorted. "You mean, you do. You and every other delinquent you call a friend."
"Guilty as charged," Sirius admitted, grinning.
Hermione's parents still looked somewhat skeptical, but Charlus, exuding the gravitas of a man who had stared down politicians and won, gestured toward the barrier. "It's quite simple. Walk directly into the wall. Don't slow down, don't hesitate."
Richard Granger blinked. "You want me to run at a wall?"
"Yes," Charlus replied smoothly. "Do you require an instruction manual?"
Ted Tonks, ever the peacemaker, clapped Richard on the shoulder. "You'll get used to the insanity, mate. Just trust it."
Hermione, who was too excited to let her parents' nerves delay her any further, straightened her spine and took a determined step forward. "I'll go first."
"Brave girl," Augusta Longbottom muttered approvingly. "This one has sense."
Hermione inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, and strode straight at the barrier. A heartbeat later, she disappeared.
Emma Granger paled. "Did she just—"
"Yep," Hannah Abbott, one of Harry's best friends, said cheerfully. "You're next."
"Lovely," Richard muttered before taking his wife's hand and marching forward.
As they passed through, Harry turned to Daphne Greengrass, who had been watching the entire exchange with amused detachment. "Think she'll survive?"
Daphne smirked. "The girl's got grit. I like her already."
With that, the rest of them strolled through the barrier, emerging onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where the Hogwarts Express gleamed under the morning light. The station was alive with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional cat yowling in protest.
Hermione stood in awe, taking it all in. "It's amazing," she breathed.
Charlus gave her a rare nod of approval. "Welcome to the real world, Miss Granger."
Nearby, Sirius clapped Harry on the back. "Well, kid, time to start your first year of mayhem and mischief."
Susan Bones grinned. "Just remember, we take turns being the responsible one."
Harry groaned. "That means it's my turn first, doesn't it?"
"Yep!" Tonks chirped.
With one last farewell to their families, the group boarded the train, ready to embark on the grand adventure that awaited them at Hogwarts.
—
As the Hogwarts Express rumbled away from King's Cross, the compartments bustled with energy—students greeting old friends, first-years nervously clutching their trunks, and the occasional owl letting out a disgruntled hoot. Harry and his growing group of acquaintances navigated the corridor in search of an open compartment, a mission not unlike a perilous dungeon crawl, but with fewer fire-breathing traps and more excited eleven-year-olds.
"Here," Harry said, sliding open a door to an empty compartment. "Our kingdom awaits."
Everyone filed in, shoving trunks into the overhead storage while Hedwig fluffed her feathers on her perch, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the commotion. As they settled, Harry glanced around, making sure everyone was comfortable before smirking and leaning forward.
"All right," he said, clapping his hands together. "Formal introductions. Because what's a long train ride without a little awkwardness?"
He turned to the bushy-haired girl sitting opposite him, her book still open but her eyes now flicking between her new companions with a mix of curiosity and nervous excitement. "Everyone, this is Hermione Granger. She's new to the magical world but already knows more about it than half of Britain."
Hermione flushed but lifted her chin. "I just think it's important to be prepared."
Susan Bones, a striking redhead with sharp wit to match, leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, Hermione, my name is Susan Bones and you and I are going to be best friends. Studying? Love it. Organization? Thrive on it. Also, my aunt heads magical law enforcement, so I expect you'll have many legal inquiries for me."
"Right, and let's not forget her real talent," Harry added. "She can absolutely obliterate you in a verbal duel before you even realize you've lost."
Susan gave him a smug little bow. "My tongue is sharper than any wand. It's a gift."
Neville, round-faced and already looking mildly overwhelmed, lifted a hand in greeting. "Neville Longbottom. Probably going to trip over something before the day's out."
"Nah," Harry said, patting his shoulder. "You'll just dramatically stumble into greatness. Happens all the time."
Neville gave a weak smile. "That would be nice for a change."
Next up was the girl whose hair had shifted from auburn to turquoise the moment she sat down. "And this," Harry said with a dramatic wave of his hand, "is Tonks. Just Tonks. Do not—under any circumstances—say her first name."
Tonks scowled at him, then grinned at Hermione. "Nymphadora. But I will hex you if you use it."
Hermione's eyes widened. "I wouldn't dream of it."
Tonks winked. "Smart girl. Also, I can do this." She scrunched up her face, and suddenly she had Hermione's exact features, wild curls and all.
Hermione gasped. "That's incredible! You can just change your appearance?"
"Yup," Tonks said, shifting back. "Super useful for sneaking snacks past curfew."
Harry smirked. "And also, you know, espionage."
Tonks waved a hand. "Pfft, minor details."
Next, Harry gestured to a tall, elegant blonde who exuded an effortless confidence. "Daphne Greengrass. Knows more about pure-blood etiquette than any of us combined. Might also have a vault bigger than Gringotts itself."
Daphne gave a small, amused smile. "Money isn't everything, Potter."
"No," Harry said thoughtfully. "But it does buy you really nice quills."
"True," Daphne admitted.
Beside her, a shorter brunette with dark, observant eyes smirked. "Tracey Davis. The one you actually have to watch out for."
"Because I'm smarter," Tracey added.
"No, because you're sneakier," Daphne corrected.
"Fair," Tracey admitted. "But let's be honest, I make things fun."
Hannah Abbott, a bubbly blonde with an infectious smile, beamed at Hermione next. "And I'm Hannah! I know all the Hogwarts ghost stories, so if you ever want to know where not to go alone at night, I'm your girl."
"That sounds… ominous," Hermione said.
"Oh, it is," Hannah confirmed cheerfully. "But it's also very important information."
With introductions done, the conversation flowed easily. Hermione, ever inquisitive, started peppering the group with questions about Hogwarts, the houses, and magical subjects.
"Okay, so explain the Sorting," she said, eyes bright with curiosity. "How does it work?"
"It's a highly sophisticated process," Harry said, completely deadpan. "They throw you into an arena, and the house mascots fight over you. Slytherin's snake is the reigning champion."
Hermione stared at him in horror before realizing half the compartment was already stifling laughter.
"Don't listen to him," Susan said, patting Hermione's hand. "It's just a hat. A very old, very sentient hat."
"A hat that will see into the very depths of your soul," Tracey added dramatically.
"And judge you forever," Daphne put in.
Hermione let out a long breath. "Great. That's… slightly less terrifying."
"Oh, don't worry," Tonks said. "It only whispers ominously in your ear for a few moments."
Hermione groaned. "That's not helping."
Harry leaned back, grinning. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Hermione. It only gets weirder from here."
The train rumbled on, carrying them toward the adventure of a lifetime.
—
As the Hogwarts Express chugged along through the picturesque countryside, the rhythmic sound of the train wheels clattering against the tracks was punctuated by the arrival of the Trolley Lady. With a cart stacked high with an array of magical sweets and snacks, she floated down the narrow corridor like a sorceress of the snack world.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" The Trolley Lady asked with a smile that was equal parts welcoming and mischievous, her voice as sweet as the treats she was offering. Her voice carried a certain Mary Poppins-esque authority, the kind that made everyone stop and listen.
Harry, who had been leaning back in his seat, gave a sideways glance at his friends. "It's about time she showed up," he said, leaning over to give Hermione a knowing look. "You'll love this, trust me."
Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked, pointing at a jar of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that sat temptingly on the cart.
Harry chuckled, leaning back in his seat with the confidence of someone who'd already spent too many Galleons on these very candies. "Yep, Every Flavor Beans. They taste like everything. From chocolate to... well, let's just say it's an adventure."
He casually grabbed a Chocolate Frog, flicking it open and tossing the card inside to Sirius, who was sitting next to him, as though it were a routine game. "You know, Sirius, you could at least pretend to be surprised. We both know you're just going to get another Dumbledore card."
Sirius smirked, catching the card mid-air without even looking. "You really should stop assuming, Harry," he said, clearly enjoying himself. "But don't mind me, go ahead and make it your third card. It's not like someone around here needs to keep up with Dumbledore's collection, huh?"
"Right, because you're totally the expert on being surprised," Harry shot back, holding up the frog for a moment as it wiggled in his hand. "Just watch out, these jump. Like a lot. Be prepared to chase it down."
Hermione, trying not to giggle at their banter, reached out gingerly for the Chocolate Frog. She unwrapped it slowly, eyes wide with the anticipation of her first real magical snack. As she held it in her palm, the frog gave an enthusiastic leap and bounded straight for the edge of the compartment. Hermione yelped and darted forward, catching the frog mid-jump with surprising agility.
"I guess that's one way to keep it fresh," she said, laughing as she popped the frog into her mouth. Her eyes brightened with delight. "Wow, this is amazing! I've read about these in all my books, but actually experiencing it is... something else!"
As she savored the chocolate, Tonks leaned over with an exaggerated sigh, her hair shifting to a neon green as she spoke. "You think that's impressive? Wait 'til you try a Bertie Bott's. They're... an experience, to say the least."
"Right," Harry said with a sly grin. "Nothing like the thrill of chomping into what could be delicious lemon... or rotten egg. Your choice."
Tonks grinned devilishly, then grabbed a pack of Bertie Bott's for herself. "Pfft, I'm not afraid. Besides, it'll give you guys some good laughs. Come on, Hermione, you're a witch now. No backing down from a challenge, yeah?"
Hermione hesitated but was too intrigued to resist. "Well... if you say so." She carefully picked one from the pack, holding it up like it might bite her back. With a look of determination, she popped it into her mouth. A second passed, and her face scrunched up in surprise. "Oh my god... Is that... is that pepper?" she asked, wide-eyed, before quickly drinking some pumpkin juice to wash it down.
The group burst out laughing, and Harry couldn't resist. "I warned you. Absolutely no mercy when it comes to Bertie Bott's."
"Guess she'll be sticking to Chocolate Frogs from now on, huh?" Sirius teased, raising an eyebrow at Hermione.
Hermione gave him a mock glare. "I'm not that easily deterred," she said, before pulling another Bertie Bott's Bean out of the pack with steely resolve. "Bring it on."
Neville, who had been quietly watching with a bemused smile, turned to Susan with a sheepish look. "I think I'll pass on those... don't want to find out if I'm allergic to rotten egg."
Susan laughed, her voice as warm as a cozy fire. "I think you're probably better off. But don't worry, I'm sure there's a sweet flavor in there for you. We'll keep searching."
Hannah, who had been laughing along with the rest of the group, looked at Neville sympathetically. "You could just take a chocolate one," she offered kindly, her shy smile lighting up her face. "That one's pretty safe."
Daphne, who had been leaning against the compartment wall with an air of elegant boredom, added with a sly smile, "I'm sure I'll get the worst one when I try. It's the law of averages."
"Yeah, it's like the universe is out to prank you," Tracey piped up, her voice dry, "or in your case, grateful for the laugh."
Daphne shot her a playful look, but there was a fondness in her eyes. "Says the girl who has a taste for the oddest things. Bertie Bott's and those awful pickled onions, really?"
"Oi! Don't knock the onions. They taste like home," Tracey shot back, clearly pleased to stir the pot. "Some of us have more discerning palates."
The back-and-forth banter filled the compartment, easing away any lingering tension. The sound of laughter, rustling wrappers, and the clink of glass bottles was a comforting rhythm in the air.
At some point, the Trolley Lady returned, her cart now filled with Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and other enticing fare. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Anything more to tempt your appetites, dears? More Chocolate Frogs, perhaps?" She flashed them a mischievous smile, clearly enjoying their enthusiasm.
"Oh, yes," Harry said without missing a beat. "We'll take another dozen—and a few of those Pumpkin Pasties. Don't make us beg."
The Trolley Lady gave him a mock-serious look. "I'll be watching you, young man. The last thing I need is a bunch of teenagers running riot in here with too many Chocolate Frogs."
"I'm harmless, I promise," Harry said, grinning wickedly. "Besides, they can't outrun me when they try to escape."
The others laughed, their camaraderie growing with every passing moment. Hermione, her cheeks flushed from the fun and excitement, finally settled into the rhythm of the group. As they continued to share snacks and stories, they realized this was only the beginning of their extraordinary journey—one that would see them facing challenges, forming unbreakable friendships, and creating memories that would last a lifetime.
And for now, as the Hogwarts Express rumbled steadily on, all they had to do was enjoy the ride.
---
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