Steam hissed as the scarlet Hogwarts Express whistled impatiently, the air buzzing with chatter, owls hooting, and trunks clattering against the cobblestones.
"Huh? Your brother isn't here?" Ron asked Harry, balancing Pig's cage awkwardly under one arm as they made their way along the train. His freckles scrunched as he glanced around.
Harry adjusted Hedwig's cage with a sigh. "I told you—he's busy. Training." His voice carried a mix of pride and disappointment. Tony had promised. They had exchanged letters over the summer—Tony's written in his usual sarcastic style, sometimes stained with coffee rings, And at the end of every one, an apology.
Tony couldn't be there to see him off. But he had sworn to send gifts. Harry smiled faintly at the thought, though it didn't quite erase the hollow in his chest.
Before Harry could say something, Ron perked up. "Oi—look! There's Hermione!"
Sure enough, Hermione was rushing toward them. "Hey guys!"
"You kids better get on the train," Sirius said warmly, placing a steady hand on Harry's back. His gray eyes crinkled in amusement as he leaned down.
Harry frowned slightly. "Where's Remus? He wasn't with you when you came to pick us up."
Sirius's lips twitched, almost betraying a grin. "You'll meet him at Hogwarts." His tone was playful, secretive. "We've got a big surprise for you, Harry. But for now—" he ruffled Harry's hair, "—shoo, shoo."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You sound like Mrs. Weasley."
As if summoned, Molly Weasley's voice rang out over the chaos. "Don't you dare blow anything up this year, you two!"
Fred and George, already half up the train steps, turned in unison. "Thanks for the idea, Mum!" they chorused, bowing dramatically.
Molly's face flushed scarlet while Arthur ducked behind his hand, chuckling helplessly. Sirius let out a bark of laughter that echoed across the platform.
"Pranksters," Molly huffed, flustered.
"Pranksters with potential," Sirius corrected proudly, earning another glare from her.
Harry waved one last time as he and Ron followed Hermione aboard. Hedwig gave a soft hoot, and the train lurched forward, pulling away from the platform with a mighty whistle.
From behind the smoke, Sirius lifted a hand in farewell, his smile fading just a little. "See you soon, pup," he muttered under his breath, though no one could hear him over the roar of the train.
And just like that, the Hogwarts Express was on its way towards Hogwarts.
—————
The compartment rattled softly as the Hogwarts Express move. The smell of soot and pumpkin pasties lingered in the air, blending with the faint chatter of students walking the corridors.
Harry sat with Ron, Neville, Hermione, and Luna. Ginny had slipped away to meet someone and promised to be back soon, leaving the five of them in a quiet lull.
"So… what you guys been up to?" Neville asked hesitantly, fiddling with his sleeve. His tone carried that nervous edge he always had when trying to break silence, though his gaze was warm, hopeful.
"Same old" Ron respond. "What about you guys?"
Hermione immediately brightened. "Well, Neville and I have been studying plants again—did you know bubotubers can be distilled into a very effective salve against stubborn rashes if handled properly?"
She and Neville been exchanging letters.
Neville's cheeks turned slightly pink, but he smiled shyly. "She's exaggerating, but yeah—I've gotten better at recognizing rare herbs. Gran says I might actually be useful one day."
"You already are," Hermione said firmly, nudging him with her elbow.
Harry smiled faintly at the exchange, though his mind was elsewhere. He trusted his friends—Ron and Hermione but how could he explain this? How could he tell them about Gellert Grindlewald, the infamous dark lord, now living in Stark Tower… teaching him spells, history, and even writing letters full of kind encouragement?
And well he's also a relative of his?
Ron leaned forward suddenly, lowering his voice as though someone outside might overhear. "You know, Charlie and Bill came home last year. Bill's moved to England for a bit. Mum reckons it's something to do with… you-know-who."
Hermione frowned. "Ron, don't spread rumors—"
"I'm not!" Ron hissed, eyes darting around. "Everyone's saying it! The bogeyman, Gellert Grindlewald—escaped! Can you believe it?!"
Harry's chest tightened. His uncle, the bogeyman? The same man who carefully explained potion ingredients when Snape wouldn't, who encouraged him when he doubted himself?
He tuned them out, staring at the floor. Uncle Gellert wasn't like that anymore. Not with him.
"He's a softie," Luna said dreamily, her pale eyes flicking up from her upside-down Quibbler.
Harry blinked, startled. "Luna… are you saying you know him?"
Luna tilted her head, her voice airy yet certain. "You have a lot of scratchers around you, Harry. Don't let them confuse you. Your uncle's heart isn't as sharp as they think."
Harry stared. He never understood her. Not fully. But sometimes she said things that sank into him like puzzle pieces he couldn't place.
Shaking his head, he tried to steer the talk elsewhere.
"Hey, Harry," Hermione suddenly asked, bright-eyed. "What courses are you taking this year? Please don't let Ron talk you into dropping the important ones—"
"Oh, come on, Hermione!" Ron groaned, throwing his head back. "He doesn't need your lecture the second we're on the train!"
"Study is important, Ron!" Hermione snapped, crossing her arms. "Besides, Harry's not just any student—Tony told me he's preparing extra Muggle studies for him, and I volunteered to help."
Harry groaned inwardly, closing his eyes. He remembered Tony's letter—long, frustrated paragraphs about how Harry couldn't neglect his non-magical education. About degrees. Jobs. The future. It all sounded so far away, yet Tony wrote with the seriousness of someone already planning Harry's life two steps ahead.
"Is Muggle studies really that important?" Harry finally asked. His voice was quieter than he meant it to be, but the whole group looked at him.
Hermione's expression turned horrified, as though he'd just set fire to the Restricted Section. "Of course it is! Think about it, Harry. What if you don't want a job in our world? What if you want something in the Muggle one? Degrees and qualifications make life easier. And besides—Stark Industries could always—"
"Bloody hell," Ron cut in, face scrunching. "Why would Harry want to work in the Muggle world? He can be an Auror! That's what Potters do!"
Harry snapped his eyes open. "What?"
Ron blinked. "Well—your dad was one, wasn't he? And your grandfather—Potters have always been Aurors. That's just… what you'll be, right?"
Hermione's mouth fell open. Neville frowned. Even Luna lowered her magazine to give Ron a flat look.
"Ron," Hermione said carefully, almost scolding, "Harry can choose what he wants to be. He's not bound to follow his father's career."
Neville nodded. "Yeah. What if he wants to be a healer? Or a professor? Or… or something outside the Ministry? Maybe even in the Muggle world with his big brother."
Harry's chest tightened again. That was it. That was the problem. Everyone saw him as James Potter's son. His father's legacy. His father's path. Hardly anyone mentioned Lily Potter. His mother.
What about her?
He barely knew her beyond a handful of kind words and the fact she had been "good at charms" and "a Head Girl." But no one ever said he was her son.
His hands curled into fists in his lap.
"Maybe you shouldn't think too much, Harry," Luna murmured, her dreamy voice soft, almost protective. "You'll get lost in the Wackers if you do."
Harry swallowed hard and forced a small smile. "Thanks, Luna." He turned toward the window, resting his forehead against the cool glass. "I think I'll take a nap."
Ron and Hermione started whispering again, Neville stared down at his shoelaces, and Luna flipped her magazine back upside down.
Harry closed his eyes. He wanted to know about his mum. Not just "Lily, the Head Girl," but Lily, the mother. Was there anyone out there who could tell him who she truly was?