Hagrid stood at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, his beady black eyes scanning the crowd before they settled on Harry.
"Blimey, Harry," he muttered, blinking in surprise. "Ye've… grown."
Harry, who had put on noticeable muscle over the past few weeks, grinned. "Yeah, I figured a bit of strength wouldn't hurt."
The baggy clothes he once wore were long gone. Instead, he sported a crisp white button-up shirt, neatly tucked into his fitted black pants, and a pair of black sneakers that blended in well enough with both magical and Muggle fashion. His glasses, once round and awkward, were now a more stylish rectangular frame, better suited to his face. He felt different—stronger, sharper, more aware.
Hagrid gave a chuckle, clapping Harry's back with a force that nearly sent him flying. "Aye, yer lookin' proper good, Harry! Just like yer parents—they was right talented, too. James was a great duelist, and Lily—one o' the brightest witches I ever met."
Harry's smile softened at the praise. "Thanks, Hagrid."
With some more lighthearted banter, the two made their way through London, finally arriving at King's Cross Station.
"Right, now listen up," Hagrid said, pointing at the brick pillar between platforms 9 and 10. "To get to the Hogwarts Express, ye need to run straight at tha' there wall—don' be scared, it won't hurt."
Harry nodded, but before he could move, Hagrid's eyes widened in confusion.
"Wait a tick—where's all yer luggage?"
Harry smirked and tapped his neck, where a thin chain rested, holding a miniature suitcase charm.
Hagrid gawked. "Blimey, Harry, ye used Shrinking Magic? Tha's advanced stuff!"
"Just some simple enchantment work," Harry said modestly.
Hagrid beamed. "A genius, just like yer parents! Professor McGonagall's gonna have a field day with ye, I reckon!"
Harry chuckled. "I'll try not to give her too much of a headache."
With that, he bid Hagrid farewell and took a deep breath before sprinting at the wall.
The moment he passed through, Platform 9¾ opened up before him in all its magical glory—the crimson Hogwarts Express waiting like a chariot to his new future.
Harry boarded the train and found an empty compartment, settling Hedwig's cage beside him. The snowy owl fluffed her feathers and preened, exuding an air of dignified possessiveness.
As he gazed out the window, he caught sight of a bushy-haired girl kissing her parents goodbye. When Hermione turned and spotted him, he waved, and her face lit up as she rushed toward the train.
Her parents, spotting the interaction, smiled warmly at him and waved as well.
Seconds later, Hermione slid into the compartment, slightly out of breath. "Mind if I sit here?"
Harry gestured toward the seat. "Of course."
She sat beside him, brushing a few curls out of her face. "Did you get all your books read?" she asked excitedly.
Harry smirked. "Every single one."
Before their conversation could get any further, a knock on the door interrupted them.
A tall, lanky red-haired boy peeked in hesitantly. "Uh… mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
Harry and Hermione shared a glance before nodding.
"Sure, come in," Harry said.
The boy grinned and stepped inside, dropping onto the seat across from them—right next to Hedwig's cage. The owl shot him a glare before pointedly turning away, ruffling her feathers.
(Monologue of a furious, jealous owl: "The bushy-haired one already stole my Harry's side, and now the gangly one wants to steal my spot, too?! Outrageous! I will peck their fingers if they try to touch him!")
"I'm Ron," the redhead said. "Ron Weasley."
"Harry Potter."
Ron's eyes widened. "Wait… the Harry Potter?" His gaze immediately snapped to Harry's forehead. "Woah, can I see your scar?"
Harry sighed but lifted his bangs slightly.
"Awesome!" Ron grinned. "Blimey, I can't believe I'm sitting with you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's just a scar."
Ron flinched at her tone but quickly moved on. "And you are?"
"Hermione Granger." She looked at him expectantly. "And you must be a Weasley. I read about your family in Modern Magical Dynasties—you're one of the oldest wizarding families, aren't you?"
Ron looked at her blankly. "Er… yeah, I guess?"
Hermione huffed. "You should read more."
Harry snickered.
The trio quickly fell into conversation, though Ron couldn't help but feel like the odd one out—Harry and Hermione were discussing things he barely understood, like spell theory and potion interactions.
Still, they got along well enough.
A while later, the trolley lady rolled by, offering sweets.
Harry, now aware of his newfound discipline when it came to food, didn't buy everything—but he still grabbed a decent variety of magical treats for them to try.
"This is the best," Ron said, grabbing a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "Though, uh… maybe be careful with these—my brother once got a booger-flavored one."
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting."
Harry opened a Chocolate Frog and watched as the enchanted card within lit up. Dumbledore's face appeared—only for the man to suddenly break into song.
"It's raining men, ooooh, hallelujah!"
The image faded, leaving Harry and Hermione staring in bemusement.
"…Well," Harry muttered. "That was unexpected."
Hermione snorted. "At least we know he has a nice singing voice."
Ron, stuffing his face with sweets, blinked. "What're you two on about?"
The rest of the train ride was spent chatting, laughing, and tasting magical sweets, with Ron providing hilariously half-baked explanations about the wizarding world. It quickly became clear that while he had grown up with magic, he was not the most studious person.
Hermione sighed. "Honestly, Ron, you should read more."
Harry chuckled. He had a feeling this was going to be an interesting friendship.