If Harry had to describe the scene outside King's Cross Station in one word, it would be "why."
As in, Why was his life like this?
Why was he about to attend wizard school with a talking cat and a sentient magic staff?
Why did his family—including actual gods—suck at blending in?
And most importantly, why had no one told Apollo that sunglasses that bright were illegal in at least seventeen different realms?
"Alright, kiddo," Jim—the Riyu Jingu Bang, legendary staff of myth, currently strapped to Harry's side like a smug fashion accessory—spoke telepathically, his voice filled with so much raw energy it practically did jumping jacks in Harry's brain. "First day of wizard school! How we feelin'? Excited? Nervous? Ready to become the undisputed king of the castle before lunch?"
Harry smirked. All of the above.
Catpool—the one and only Merc with a Mouth, now in the form of a cat for reasons that mostly boiled down to he thought it'd be funny—was draped across Harry's shoulders like the world's most chaotic scarf. You forgot the most important question, Jimbo: When does the murder start? His telepathic voice was pure Deadpool, filled with the kind of unhinged enthusiasm that should've come with a warning label. Because let's be real, this is a school setting, and statistically, somebody's gotta die by chapter five.
Harry sighed. Yeah, let's not make that a goal, alright?
Oh, come on, Catpool whined. Not even a little bit of manslaughter? Just a nibble? Like, a "whoops, I tripped and accidentally pushed someone into a conveniently placed pit of doom" kinda thing?
Jim snickered. "You're a cat. What're you gonna do, scratch someone to death?"
Do NOT underestimate the power of my tiny, razor-sharp murder mittens, Catpool shot back. Also, hairballs. Nature's sniper rifles.
Meanwhile, behind Harry stood the absolute circus that was his family and friends, all pretending to be normal Midgardians.
Spoiler: they sucked at it.
Artemis—formerly Lily Potter, currently "Aunt Diana"—stood with her arms crossed, surveying the crowd with the same expression she usually reserved for idiot demigods who thought it was a good idea to steal sacred deer. (Spoiler: It was never a good idea.)
Loki—formerly James Potter, currently "Atreus"—stood beside her, looking way too smug for someone who was supposed to be on his best behavior. He was rocking the whole mysterious, brooding fake boyfriend aesthetic, and Harry could already tell it was driving Artemis up the wall.
Apollo—literal god of the sun—was dressed in jeans, loafers, and a sleeveless T-shirt that said SUN'S OUT, GUNS OUT across the chest. He was also wearing the worst sunglasses Harry had ever seen in his life.
"You're not even trying to blend in," Artemis muttered.
Apollo gasped. "Excuse you! I'll have you know this look is flawless." He adjusted his shades, grinning. "Besides, I figured I'd help Harry make a good first impression. You know—show up looking cool, intimidate the professors with my godly good looks. It's an uncle's duty."
"Right, because you are totally his favorite uncle," Thor said, rolling his eyes as he adjusted the leather jacket he had very reluctantly agreed to wear. (Thor in casual clothes was like a bear wearing a tuxedo—technically possible, but deeply, deeply uncomfortable.)
"Please," Apollo scoffed. "I have charisma, musical talent, and a convertible chariot. You? You have a hammer."
"A hammer that can smash mountains," Thor pointed out.
Apollo shrugged. "So can my mixtape, bro."
Sif and the Warriors Three were trying (and failing) to look normal. Brunhilde—Harry's Valkyrie trainer slash professional badass—was leaning against a wall, scanning the crowd with the quiet intensity of someone who fully expected things to go sideways.
And then there was Sirius and Marlene McKinnon-Black, standing with their seven-year-old daughter, Lyra.
"Can I go with him?" Lyra asked for the seventh time in the last ten minutes.
"No," Marlene said.
"But—"
"No."
Sirius ruffled her hair. "Don't worry, pup. We'll start training you early. By the time you do go to Hogwarts, you'll be a legend."
Marlene sighed. "Absolutely not."
Sirius grinned. "Absolutely yes."
Just then, Hermione arrived, weaving through the crowd with her dad, Dr. Richard Granger—a man who had the build of someone who could bench-press Harry and his trunk without breaking a sweat.
She practically sprinted over to Harry, glancing around before pulling something from her sleeve. "Look!" she whispered excitedly. "I got my real wand!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Real wand? What, the one from Ollivanders wasn't good enough?"
"It was fine," Hermione said, "but this was a gift from my mum."
Harry's smirk faded. "Wait. Your mum?"
She nodded. "Yup!"
Harry blinked. "The goddess Athena?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Harry, the Athena who works at Tesco. Yes, the goddess Athena!"
She held up the wand. It was made of olive wood and Celestial Bronze, and just looking at it made Harry feel like if he ever crossed Hermione, he'd be so dead.
Loki leaned in, smirking. "Impressive. But does it come with a user manual, or are you expected to figure it out before you accidentally summon an army of owls?"
"It's instinctual," Hermione said coolly.
Jim whistled. Oof. Kid's got sass. I like her.
Catpool snickered. Oh yeah, she's gonna rule that school.
Dr. Granger, who had been watching in silence, finally spoke. "So, I assume I don't need to give you the take care of my daughter speech?"
Harry grinned. "Sir, I fully intend to take care of her, annoy her, and make sure she has the full first-year experience—including, but not limited to, nearly getting expelled and surviving at least one death trap."
Dr. Granger's lips twitched. "Good man."
Artemis sighed. "I hate that this isn't an exaggeration."
Loki grinned. "Oh, please. Like we haven't already caused way more trouble than that."
Before Hermione could launch into a rant about not actively seeking death traps, Lyra gasped and pointed at Harry's shoulder. "Oh my gods, you have a talking cat!"
Catpool perked up. "Finally! Someone gets me!" He threw his tiny paws in the air. "Yes! I am Catpool! Feline assassin! The Purr-edator of justice!"
Lyra's eyes sparkled. "Can I keep you?"
"NO," Harry and Artemis said at the same time.
Catpool grinned. "Aw, don't be jealous, kid. I can have multiple families."
Before Artemis could murder him, Harry pushed his cart toward the barrier, bracing himself for whatever madness Hogwarts had in store.
And knowing his luck? It was gonna be a lot.
—
If anyone had told Harry Potter that his first encounter with the Hogwarts Express would feel like stepping into a circus act directed by a caffeine-fueled demigod, he probably wouldn't have believed them. But then again, his life had already involved time-traveling gremlins, a snarky, shape-shifting father, and an enchanted weapon with the energy of a Jim Carrey performance on speed.
So, yeah. At this point, anything was possible.
The scarlet train stood before them, steam hissing from its sides like a dragon stretching after a long nap. Hermione, ever the nerd, looked like she'd just stepped into the Library of Alexandria. "Oh my gods," she whispered in awe. "It's real."
"Yup," Harry said, staring up at the train with a mix of excitement and impending doom. "We're actually doing this."
And then, of course, Deadpool had to ruin the moment.
"Alright, nerds, moment over! I got bets running on how long it takes before this thing turns into a crime scene. My money's on ten minutes after departure. Who wants in? No refunds, no moral judgments, and yes, I take payment in snacks."
Hermione shot him a glare that could have melted titanium. "We are not betting on murder, Wade."
Deadpool raised his hands. "Fine. Accidental manslaughter?"
"NO."
Harry sighed. "What did we say about outside voices inside our brains, Wade?"
Deadpool huffed. "That they should be used for good and not evil?"
"Exactly."
"Yeah, well. I ignored that memo."
While Harry was busy threatening to shove Deadpool into the narrative void, his chaotic found-family was already making a spectacle out of themselves.
Exhibit A:
Thor and Apollo were immediately locked in a battle of 'Who Gives the Best Advice on Being Cool?' because apparently, that was a thing now.
"Listen well, young Harry," Thor declared, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder with the force of an overenthusiastic linebacker. "If you wish to be mighty—"
"OH. MY. GODS. STOP." Apollo dramatically slid down his aviators and pointed an accusing finger at Thor. "This is not about being mighty, Point Break. This is about being cool. Different categories. Completely different rulebooks."
Thor scowled. "Point Break? You dare—"
"Oh, I dare."
And just like that, the two of them squared up like rival gym bros about to throw hands over who benched more last Tuesday.
Artemis, looking like she was experiencing the early symptoms of a migraine, rubbed her temples. "If you two don't stop using my son's life as your personal ego competition, I swear on the Styx, I will hunt you through the Nine Realms."
Thor cleared his throat. "Apologies, sister."
Apollo, meanwhile, threw up his hands. "I was just trying to be the best uncle, but some people are insecure about their title."
Thor crossed his arms. "I am the greatest uncle."
Apollo snorted. "Oh yeah? Who got him that enchanted solar guitar? That's right. Me."
Thor scowled. "Who introduced him to mead—?"
"NO ONE IS INTRODUCING AN ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD TO MEAD," Artemis snapped.
Harry, who definitely had been about to ask follow-up questions on that, wisely shut his mouth.
Exhibit B:
Sirius, Remus, and Loki had somehow formed an unholy trinity of Mischief and Bad Decisions and were currently lecturing him on the sacred Marauder rules of choosing a Hogwarts Express compartment.
"Rule number one," Sirius said grandly, "you never sit near the Prefects. Boring. Stuffy. Always looking at you like they know you're up to something."
"Rule two," Remus added, smirking, "avoid the snack trolley at rush hour. Rookie mistake."
"Rule three," Loki drawled, "if you must sit near the other first years, ensure they fear you."
"Rule four," Sirius continued, "if you see a Slytherin, flip them off politely—"
"SIRIUS," Artemis snapped, smacking him upside the head.
"Oh, please," Marlene said, rolling her eyes. "If anyone's picking the compartment, it's Hermione."
Sirius huffed. "Fine. But if she gets them stuck with nerds—"
Hermione fixed him with the kind of look that could have made Voldemort rethink his life choices.
"I am a nerd, Sirius."
"And proud, sweetheart." Sirius grinned.
Before they could start a debate on the moral alignment of nerds, a thunderous stampede erupted from the barrier.
That could only mean one thing.
"Ah," Loki mused, smirking. "And here come the Weasleys."
Sure enough, a herd of redheads came crashing onto the platform like a runaway Quidditch team.
"RON!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, struggling to wrangle a hyperactive Ginny. "HURRY, DEAR, YOU'LL MISS THE TRAIN!"
The twins—Fred and George, identical smirks firmly in place—immediately zeroed in on Harry and Hermione like sharks scenting blood in the water.
"Well, well, well," Fred said.
"If it isn't Hogwarts' newest troublemakers," George added.
"We approve," they chorused.
Harry grinned. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet."
And that's when Jim finally decided to contribute to the conversation.
"OH. MY. GODS." The glowing staff vibrated in Harry's grip like an overcaffeinated squirrel. "WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME WE HAD TWO OF YOU?! TWINS! IDENTICAL CHAOS ENGINES! I AM LIVING FOR THIS!"
Fred blinked. "Uh—"
George blinked. "What?"
"YOU. ME. PARTNERS IN CRIME," Jim declared. "I'LL EVEN PROVIDE DRAMATIC BACKGROUND MUSIC. LIVE."
Harry groaned. "Great. Now you've done it."
The Weasleys stared at the talking, glowing staff with varying degrees of shock.
"…Is that thing sentient?" Ron finally asked.
Catpool grinned. "Oh, buddy, you have no idea."
And then, just as things almost seemed to settle, Apollo suddenly clapped Harry on the back.
"Alright, favorite nephew," he said loudly, very pointedly looking at Thor. "Listen up. Coolness Rule Number One—"
"Oh, for the love of Odin," Artemis muttered.
And just like that, Harry Potter's life at Hogwarts was officially off to the most ridiculous start possible.
Welcome to the Hogwarts Express.
May the gods have mercy.
—
The noise on the platform was… well, you could say it was intense. Between the excited chattering, the shrill whistle of the Hogwarts Express, and random shouts of "Hurry up, we'll miss the train!" it was the kind of atmosphere that could give you a migraine just by looking at it.
But Harry? Harry had far more important things on his mind. Like finding a compartment that wouldn't end up in some ridiculous, explosive disaster. He had spent more than enough time last year making sure everything was completely nuts, and he really wasn't in the mood for a repeat of that.
"Okay, Hermione," Harry said, adjusting his bag and feeling like this was going to be the longest ride of his life. "We need to find a compartment. You know, something without a death trap or a homicidal maniac or, I don't know, a zombie apocalypse."
Hermione, whose eyes were gleaming with an excitement that could probably power a small village, nodded seriously. "Yes, I agree. Something safe and quiet, away from the Prefects' car—"
"No promises," Harry interrupted, raising an eyebrow. He glanced over at Catpool, who was hanging from Harry's shoulder in a pose that would've made Spider-Man jealous, though it looked more like an octopus who was late for a board meeting.
"Yeah, yeah," Catpool chimed in, clearly oblivious to the fact that the universe was still functioning around him. "But if we're near the Slytherins, I will start a party. With confetti. And maybe some fireworks. And possibly a murderous dance-off."
Harry shot him a flat look. "Really? That's your idea of a fun time? A 'murderous dance-off'?"
Catpool just grinned. "Hey, you gotta live a little."
"I'm pretty sure that would get us expelled before we even reach Hogwarts," Harry muttered, but he couldn't help smirking. Honestly, with Catpool around, there was always a chance that something would turn into a full-on disaster. And Harry was kind of okay with that.
Then, suddenly, Jim—the sentient magic staff with all the subtlety of an electric banana—decided to go off like it was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.
"OH MY GOD, GUYS!" Jim screamed, loud enough that half the station probably heard him. "THIS IS A TRAIN! A MOVING MAGIC CARPET ON RAILS! I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING! WE'RE RIDING A GIANT METAL MONSTER OF SPEED! WHO INVENTED THIS? I WANT TO WRITE THEM A LETTER! THIS IS SO MUCH COOLER THAN A BROOM—NO, SCRATCH THAT—A BROOM CAN KISS MY—"
"Jim, buddy, tone it down, okay?" Harry said, trying to rub his temples in a futile attempt to lessen the oncoming headache. "It's just a train. You've been on one before."
"I'VE BEEN ON ONE OF THESE?!" Jim nearly vibrated right off Harry's shoulder, his voice now the equivalent of a power drill. "NO! This is a magical train! This is like the Ferrari of transportation! The Lamborghini of locomotives! There's magic involved! Magic! You know what that means? Faster-than-light-speed trips! Instantaneous teleportation! WHO WANTS TO PUSH THE BUTTON THAT MAKES IT GO FASTER?!"
"Jim, please," Harry said, exasperated. "You can't push the button. There's no 'button.' This isn't The Flash's personal magic bus."
"I'm telling you, if we ever get to ride this thing to another dimension or whatever… best field trip ever!" Jim shouted back, practically bouncing off Harry's face with enthusiasm.
"Ugh," Harry groaned, "I swear to Merlin, next year I'm getting a calm magical artifact. Maybe a rock. A nice, quiet rock."
Hermione, looking like she'd seen this insanity one too many times, began walking down the corridor. "To the compartments, then? Before we get completely insane?"
"Yeah, let's get this over with," Harry replied, following her with Catpool still attached to his back like an overly-excited koala. "I have a feeling this year is going to be a super bad idea."
The train was finally starting to clear out, students scattering into the cars with wild abandon. Harry couldn't help but notice the first-year crowd, who were all either completely lost in the madness or pretending to be way cooler than they were. They all had the same confused, wide-eyed look that Harry had when he first stepped onto the train… though he had at least gotten to yell at a dark wizard within the first few minutes.
"Oh, hey!" Ron's voice broke through Harry's distracted thoughts, and Harry turned to see his best mate barreling toward them, looking slightly out of breath and way too excited for a guy who had been riding on a moving magical train for all of ten seconds.
"I got us a compartment!" Ron announced like he'd just discovered the Ark of the Covenant under his bed. "C'mon! Before all the other first-years swarm it. We've gotta claim it for the legends!"
As they followed Ron through the train, Harry thought for a second that maybe, just maybe, the train would settle into a normal, quiet rhythm. But no. That would be way too easy.
The doors slid open, revealing none other than Neville Longbottom, who was standing at the window looking like a man contemplating the meaning of life... or, more likely, trying to figure out why the heck he was on a magical train. Beside him, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were already sitting, and they greeted the group with bright smiles that somehow made everything feel marginally more normal.
"Hey, Harry! Hermione! Ron!" Neville called, his voice still a little high-pitched from excitement and uncertainty. "I, uh, hope it's okay we started without you… we weren't sure if you'd find us or—"
"Don't worry, Neville," Hermione said quickly, flashing him a smile. "We've had a lot to deal with. You know, the usual—magical chaos and all."
"You'll fit right in, then," Ron added with a grin, giving Harry a hearty slap on the back that had him almost choking on his own breath. "This year's gonna be nuts. I can feel it."
Susan, whose enthusiasm was practically infectious, clapped her hands. "I knew you'd find us eventually! This is gonna be so much fun!"
Hannah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, so long as we don't have to share with those guys," she said, giving a pointed look to the nearest compartment full of Slytherins who looked smug enough to drown in it.
"Well, look who's here," a new voice chimed from the back of the compartment, and Harry turned to see Tracey Davis walking in with that trademark smirk that made her look like she knew something everyone else didn't. "What's the deal? Did you really think we were gonna leave you out?"
"You're not welcome here, Greengrass," Catpool hissed from Harry's shoulder, causing Tracey and Daphne to exchange the most unimpressed eye rolls in the history of humanity.
"Oh, please," Daphne quipped as she stepped in behind Tracey. "We're all gonna be in the same castle anyway. Might as well get used to it, yeah?"
"Yeah, whatever," Catpool muttered under his breath, "I'll charge extra for the entertainment." He eyed the girls like they were about to break out the fancy snacks. "This is gonna be great."
"You really need to shut up," Harry muttered, as the compartment filled up and the train began to rumble to life.
"Well, at least it's never boring with you lot around," Jim said with wild enthusiasm. "I'm telling you, this is going to be LEGENDARY."
"Just don't blow anything up," Hermione muttered as she found her seat, shooting Harry a look that clearly said she was preparing for a very long ride.
"Oh, we won't," Harry said, throwing himself into a seat across from Hermione. "We'll just break the laws of physics and maybe have a snack. Definitely a snack."
And as the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the platform, Harry couldn't help but smile. He was already in way too deep.
And it was going to be a wild ride.
—
The train rattled on like an old man shaking his fist at a cloud, the clatter of the tracks harmonizing with the ever-growing chaos inside the compartment. It was one of those rare moments when Harry wasn't tempted to do something absolutely ridiculous just to break the silence. But then again, when was anything ever normal when you were traveling with this group of lunatics?
"Well, well," Harry said, looking around at the assembled chaos, "We've got a full year ahead of us, so what's the over/under on how long it takes before we get into trouble?"
Hermione, who was perched primly in the seat across from him like she had just stepped out of a book on 'How To Be Perfectly Organized,' didn't look up from her book—yet somehow managed to sound as if she was already planning their funeral. "Considering you're involved, I'm going with 'very soon.'"
Harry grinned, throwing a piece of Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I feel like we're starting strong," he said, leaning back in his seat. "I mean, Jim here's already had a full-on existential crisis about the nature of trains."
Jim, who had been bouncing in place for the last ten minutes, finally turned to face Harry with the dead seriousness of someone who had just solved the meaning of life itself. "Do you realize, Harry," he said, pausing dramatically, "that trains are essentially moving fortresses of deliciousness? They've got snacks, rooms, and don't even get me started on the whole 'moving on tracks like magical railroads' thing. I think we're all here to ride greatness."
Harry, being the king of savage burns, didn't even blink. "That's funny, because I thought we were on a train, not a mobile snack warehouse."
"You just don't get it," Jim continued, undeterred. "This is art. This is a revolution."
Tracey Davis, who'd been observing the chaos with the cool, quiet judgment of someone who had clearly seen this all before, raised an eyebrow at Jim. "You're arguing about trains... with someone who can literally fly?"
Jim turned toward her, a manic grin spreading across his face like the Joker after too much coffee. "Hey, don't knock the trains! Someone has to appreciate the subtle brilliance of being able to take a nap on a moving platform while snacking on overpriced candy."
"Oh, you're both insane," Harry said, shaking his head.
At that, Jim shot around the compartment like a sugar-crazed bee. "I'm flying! I'm flying, you guys!" He zoomed from one end of the room to the other, screeching like a toddler who had just discovered the joy of yelling in public.
"You know," Ron said with a smirk, "this is nothing compared to the trouble I've got planned for this year."
"You say that every year," Susan Bones chimed in, looking at Ron with an amused smile that was 100% practiced at this point. "Remember the broomstick incident?"
Ron turned as red as a Weasley sweater. "That was not my fault! Hagrid never said dragons could be dangerous!" He looked around at the group, as if to ask for sympathy. "I was just trying to get him to show me how to tame one! It's a learning experience!"
"I love how your learning experiences usually involve putting everyone else in danger," Hermione muttered, eyes still glued to her book.
"Way more teeth and a serious love for roasting people alive," Harry added, grinning like a cat who'd just swallowed a canary. "Also, way less 'fetch the stick.'"
Neville Longbottom, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared the universe might explode if he said anything louder. "Well, once I tried to use Wingardium Leviosa to lift a toad... and it got stuck in a tree. For two days."
The entire compartment went silent for a moment. Then, Ron, still trying to process this new piece of information, let out a very Ron-like snort. "You did what?"
"I didn't mean to!" Neville said quickly, his face turning bright red. "It just... sort of happened. And then I didn't know what to do, so I just left it there. It hung in the tree until Flitwick came and rescued it."
"I'm not even sure how to respond to that," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "But hey, at least the toad survived. So... good job, Neville?"
"Thanks, I guess?" Neville looked both embarrassed and proud, which, if you knew Neville, was a true achievement.
"Classic Neville," Ron said, shaking his head fondly.
At that moment, the door to the compartment opened, and in walked Hannah Abbott, looking like someone who had just seen something hilariously ridiculous but was holding it in because there was just no way to explain it. She flashed a mischievous grin. "So, are we gonna do something useful, or just sit here pretending like we're not the world's most dysfunctional family?"
"Dysfunctional?" Harry shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Define 'dysfunctional.' I mean, when you've got a literal flying stick and an insane guy trying to make friends with every living being on this train, I think we're already halfway there."
"Well," Hannah said, sitting down next to Susan, "I think the trolley lady's still on the table for 'hexing the everloving crap out of.' Anyone got a plan for that?"
"Is that what this year's about? Hexing trolley ladies?" Jim asked, completely deadpan.
"Obviously," Harry said, leaning back and enjoying his Chocolate Frog like he was eating the literal fruits of life. "Next stop: Hogwarts Express Heist 2.0."
"And this time," Jim added, eyes widening like a man who had just discovered fire, "I'm buying ALL the frogs. Every last one of them. You guys? This... is my year."
"That's gonna be fun," Hermione muttered, eyes still in her book but clearly plotting. "More chocolate frogs. Just what we need."
At the top of Harry's seat, Catpool—a cat who had more opinions about things than any reasonable creature should—lifted his head and grinned. "Can I get in on that chocolate frog heist? Because if you want a cat burglar on your team, I'm your guy."
"No, I'm the one who looks cool while stealing said frogs," Harry said, without missing a beat. "You guys know I'm basically a walking, talking, flying fortress of awesomeness. I mean, look at me. I'm perfection, wrapped in a cape of red and gold."
Ron, who had grown used to Harry's cocky comments, just gave him a side-eye. "That's the least ridiculous thing you've said today. Congratulations."
"I'm proud of myself," Harry said with a smirk, popping another piece of chocolate into his mouth. "But honestly, I'm on a roll. You guys are just lucky you get to ride my coattails this year."
As the train chugged along toward Hogwarts, Harry couldn't help but smile. This year was going to be pure chaos, and with friends like these? Well, he wouldn't have it any other way.
And honestly, he couldn't wait to see just how bad things could get.
—
The train rumbled along at full speed, and for the most part, it was a peaceful ride. Well, peaceful for everyone except Harry, who was busy trying to block out the mental noise of his telepathic companions—Jim, who was clearly bouncing off the walls of Harry's head, and Catpool, who was getting a bit too comfortable with making sarcastic comments about the snacks they had packed. But it was a pretty standard Hogwarts journey... until the door to their compartment flew open with all the subtlety of a crashing bull in a china shop.
In the doorway stood none other than Draco Malfoy, looking like he'd stepped out of a shampoo commercial for smug assholes. His platinum blonde hair practically glowed under the train lights, and the sneer on his face could've powered a small village for a year.
"Ah, the infamous Boy-Who-Lived," Draco drawled, clearly savoring the sound of his own voice as if it were the first time anyone had ever heard of it. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he continued, his eyes glittering with the expectation that Harry would immediately start swooning.
Behind him were his two bodyguards, or as Harry liked to call them, the "Human Bruiser and the Muscle Wrecking Ball." These two looked like they'd been designed in a lab to act as Draco's personal wrecking crew, probably built from a mix of rock and raw beef. They looked like they could bench press a dragon if the need arose—and it probably had.
Harry, however, wasn't impressed. Not even a little. In fact, he was already mentally preparing for what he was going to say. But first, he'd check in with the team.
"Hey, Jim, Catpool," Harry thought, grinning to himself. "How do we want to handle this? I mean, I could just melt his smug little face off with a few well-placed words or—"
"OH. MY. GOD!" Jim's voice burst into Harry's head like an explosion of confetti. "It's him. It's THE Draco Malfoy. The guy with the hair that screams 'I don't need conditioner but I use it anyway because I CAN.'" Jim paused for dramatic effect. "And he's standing there acting like he's the wizarding world's answer to Beyoncé. What are you gonna do, Harry? THIS is your moment."
Catpool's voice chimed in right after, smooth as butter on a pancake. "Mmm, you know what I'm thinking. Let's chef's kiss make this a work of art. We should treat him like a used broomstick: disrespectful but oh-so-satisfying."
Harry couldn't suppress a grin. "Alright, let's make this quick. He's already starting to look like he's about to cry because no one's bowing down."
"Potter," Draco continued, his voice dripping with arrogance, "I thought I should introduce myself. After all, you're the Boy-Who-Lived, so it's only right you get some real guidance. Someone who knows how to navigate the upper echelons of Hogwarts society." His gaze flicked disdainfully to Hermione, who was giving him the full-on stink eye, and then to Ron, who looked like he was actively holding back a growl. He didn't even spare Neville a second glance. "You don't want to be stuck with—well, these people. Trust me, Potter. The Weasley is a lost cause, the Mudblood's beneath you, and Longbottom... well, he's basically a squib in disguise."
"Did he just call Hermione a Mudblood?" Jim's voice came in a full-on snarl. "I'm gonna burn this kid's face off with my mind if he doesn't shut up soon. Is he serious? It's like a mix of racism and horrible fashion sense just came together in a symphony of bad decisions."
"Yeah," Harry muttered under his breath, "he's definitely the human equivalent of a wet sock on a hot day." He leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers on the armrest in time with the train's clattering noise. "So let me get this straight, Malfoy. You think you can school me in friendship? What, do you hand out little friendship bracelets to the 'cool' kids or something? Do you have a pamphlet? A PowerPoint presentation?"
Draco blinked, completely thrown off guard by the sudden shift in tone. But Harry wasn't done. Oh no, he was just getting started.
"I mean, look at you, mate," Harry continued, now fully in the zone. "You're walking around like you've just stepped off the set of a 'Most Entitled Wizard' commercial, and you're trying to tell me who to hang out with?" He raised an eyebrow. "Here's a thought: I'd rather hang out with a bunch of rogue gnomes than take advice from someone who looks like they've been born out of a bottle of expired shampoo."
Draco's face flushed. "You—"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. I get it," Harry cut him off, letting his sarcasm flow freely. "You want me to join your exclusive club of purebloods and empty egos. Great pitch, really. But I'm good, thanks. I'm already surrounded by my awesome, genuine friends who don't have to remind me every ten seconds that they're better than everyone else." Harry gave Ron, Hermione, and Neville a wink. "And they don't make fun of people based on where they come from. We're too busy actually having fun."
Draco's eyes were practically glowing with the heat of his anger. "You'll regret this, Potter," he spat, taking a step closer to Harry's face. "Mark my words."
"Oh, I'm sure I will," Harry said sweetly, before adding, "But not today, sweetheart. Not today. You and your little goons can take your superiority complex and shuffle right off to your next class. If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it—and that's not happening anytime soon."
Tracey Davis, who had been sitting quietly until now, leaned forward in her seat and shot Draco a look that would've melted most people's bones. "Draco, you really should take that 'I'm better than you' act to a place where it's more appreciated. Like, say, the Slytherin Common Room. Oh, wait. You are in Slytherin, aren't you? Makes sense."
Draco froze, as if trying to decide whether it was worth engaging in another verbal sparring match. But instead, he just gave a final, venomous sneer.
"Fine, have it your way," he hissed. "But don't come crying to me when you realize you're surrounded by nothing but misfits."
And with that, Draco turned and stormed out, his trolls following behind him like a pair of overgrown puppies who had just been told they weren't getting treats.
As the door slammed shut, the compartment erupted into laughter. Hermione let out a soft, victorious sigh. "That was brilliant, Harry."
"Yeah, you really showed him," Ron added, looking completely impressed. "Man, he looked like he was about to combust."
"He was about to combust," Harry said with a grin. "And frankly, I'm just happy I had the privilege of watching it."
"High five!" Jim shouted in Harry's mind, as if they were on some kind of unspoken victory lap. "That's right, baby. We just roasted a ferret."
"You sure you've not secretly switched bodies with Deadpool?" Neville asked, still trying to process what had just happened. "That was... brutal."
"I mean, it's possible," Harry shrugged. "But hey, I'm not gonna complain if the job gets done. Anyway, what's next, guys? We still have a few hours before we get to Hogwarts, so let's make the most of it."
And as the train chugged on toward Hogwarts, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that this year was going to be a whole lot more entertaining than he'd ever expected.
----
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