Teaching a Malfoy a lesson was just a small matter for Peter.
He had already forgotten about it by the time he walked back toward his compartment.
But for Hermione, it left a storm swirling inside her chest.
It was strange—something she had never felt before.
Her heart was racing, and her thoughts tangled themselves into knots. She had prepared a long string of thanks, carefully thought out and worded in her head, but the moment Peter turned toward her, everything scrambled.
What came out instead was a rushed, awkward scolding.
"You… you really shouldn't use spells to attack people," she stammered. "What if they report you to the school and get you in trouble…"
Even as she spoke, her voice trailed off. The words sounded stupid, even to her.
She wished she could take them back immediately.
Peter didn't seem bothered. He just smiled, calm and unshaken.
"At least for the next few hours, they won't dare cause trouble," he said. "I'm going back to the carriage to rest. See you later, Miss Granger."
And with that, he turned to go.
Merlin!
Hermione clutched her bag tightly and clenched her fists.
Hermione Granger, what is wrong with you?
She wanted to slap her own forehead. All that time rehearsing what to say, and now she had ruined it with a weak, scolding remark?
Peter was already walking away when she found her voice again.
"Thank you! For what happened just now!" she called out quickly. "And… and you can call me Hermione!"
Peter paused and looked over his shoulder. The corner of his lips curled into a warm smile.
"Okay, Hermione. Then you can call me Peter too."
As he spoke, he gently flicked his wand.
A small breeze swept past her, light and playful, brushing back the loose strands of her hair.
Hermione stood frozen in the corridor, one hand slowly rising to touch her cheek, unsure whether the flutter in her chest came from the wind—or from something else entirely.
But this time, the charm didn't make her hair float up into the air.
Instead, the strands softened and gently settled along the curve of her cheeks, framing her face with unexpected tenderness.
Peter smiled, eyes twinkling.
"Don't listen to anything Malfoy says. You're actually very pretty."
"…"
Hermione froze, utterly stunned.
She was certain the temperature of her head shot up by a hundred degrees. Her face felt like it was about to catch fire.
As if she might combust on the spot.
Peter, quite pleased with the effect, gave a small nod of satisfaction. After being interrupted by Malfoy's nonsense, teasing Hermione seemed to lift his spirits again.
He hummed a cheerful little tune as he walked back down the corridor, light on his feet.
Before he even reached the door of the compartment, he heard Ron's voice drifting through the gap.
"…I'm telling you, it was Peter who did it. He totally wrecked Malfoy. I bet he cursed them. Did you see Malfoy's teeth? They looked like a warthog's tusks. Maybe he'll be stuck like that forever."
Then came Harry's awestruck whisper.
"What kind of spell is that powerful?"
"No clue," Ron said dramatically. "Peter does weird stuff all the time. He's got a scary temper too. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he used an Unforgivable Curse on Malfoy!"
Outside the door, Peter let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.
He slid the compartment door open.
Ron and Harry both jumped.
Peter raised his wand.
"Ahhh!" Ron yelped in terror, scrambling backward so quickly he nearly knocked over the snack pile.
Even Harry flinched, startled by the sudden movement. Ron ended up crouched behind him, hands over his head.
Peter arched an eyebrow.
"…Seriously?" he said, not even trying to hide his amusement.
His movements were so practiced and natural that it made people feel a bit bad for him. But still… why was he the shield?
After scaring his little brother, Peter didn't bother paying him any more attention. He returned to his seat, pulled out a potions textbook, and opened it with interest, flipping through the pages as if nothing had happened.
Harry glanced at Ron, whose face was nearly as pale as Malfoy's, and couldn't stop himself from quietly giggling behind his hand.
Ron looked thoroughly embarrassed but didn't dare say anything. He just glared at Harry with a huff.
Still, it didn't take long for the two boys to start whispering to each other again, caught up in boyish excitement and curiosity. They chatted about Chocolate Frogs, ghosts at Hogwarts, and whether the Great Hall ceiling really looked like the sky.
A short while later, the door opened again. The twins, Fred and George, strolled in with identical grins.
They greeted Harry cheerfully, then leaned in conspiratorially.
"We borrowed a camera from a fourth-year," Fred said.
"We're going to get a few good shots of poor Draco's little disaster," George added.
"And print them out for everyone. Free of charge," Fred declared proudly. "A tribute to our dear brother's mighty deeds."
Peter didn't look up from his book, but a corner of his mouth lifted.
When evening fell, the Hogwarts Express began to slow down.
It had grown dark outside the windows. The train finally rolled to a stop, and a voice echoed through the compartments.
"First years, get your robes on. Leave your luggage in the train. It'll be taken up to the castle for you."
More than ten minutes earlier, Peter had already helped Harry and Ron into their school robes. Now the two stood behind him, their expressions tight with nervousness.
Harry kept rubbing his palms down his pant legs. Ron's freckles looked oddly pale in the lantern light. The things they had heard about the Sorting Ceremony swirled through their minds, creating awful images of dueling dragons or wrestling trolls.
By the time the train came to a complete stop, the two of them were so nervous they simply followed Peter by instinct, not thinking at all.
When they finally stepped onto the small, dark platform, the chill of the night air woke them up slightly.
A familiar lantern bobbed ahead.
"First years! First years over here!" came a booming voice. "This way now. Any more first years? Don't be shy. Over here."
It was Hagrid, waving a massive lantern above the crowd. When he spotted Harry, he beamed.
"Harry, all right there?"
Harry nodded weakly.
Even Hagrid's kind smile couldn't calm the unease in his chest. He noticed Ron clutching Peter's robes tightly like a lifeline.
Without thinking, he grabbed the other side.
Peter turned slightly and looked over his shoulder.
"Don't grip so hard," he whispered calmly. "You're not going to die."
Somehow, that actually helped.
They followed him into the dark, ready to take their first steps into the unknown.
The two of them shook their heads desperately.
The senior students left quickly after that. Hagrid called out a few more times to make sure there were no stragglers among the first-years. Then he raised his lantern high and led the way forward.
They followed him down a steep, narrow path. The night was dark, with barely anything visible, and no one dared to speak. The only light was the faint, flickering glow of Hagrid's lantern far ahead, casting long, shifting shadows across the trail.
Everyone stumbled along quietly, afraid of tripping or getting left behind. Then, from the middle of the line, a clear voice rang out.
"Lumos!"
A warm, gentle light glowed at the tip of Peter's wand, instantly pushing back the darkness. The effect was immediate. Dozens of little heads, nervous and wide-eyed, bunched close around him like baby chicks gathering around their mother hen.
They moved on in tight formation, the glowing light from Peter's wand guiding their way.
After a long walk through the darkness, they turned a corner, and the path opened up.
Gasps filled the air.
Ahead of them lay a vast black lake, its glassy surface stretching wide into the distance. Far across the water, at the foot of a towering mountain, rose the silhouette of a majestic castle. Stone walls soared into the sky, turrets and towers crowned its shape, and golden lights gleamed from countless windows, flickering like stars against the night.
Peter gazed at it and had to admit it was breathtaking.
Hagrid turned to face the group and pointed to a line of boats bobbing near the lakeshore.
"Four to a boat. No rushin', no pushin'. Find your spots and get in nice and calm."
Peter stepped toward one of the boats and helped Harry and Ron climb aboard.
Just as a few other kids began inching closer to squeeze into the same boat, Peter called out over their heads.
"Hermione? Hermione! Come here!"
His voice carried clearly across the crowd, catching her attention at once.
Hermione pushed through the crowd, surprised but pleased. Without hesitating, she made her way toward him. The other students reluctantly backed away from the boat, grumbling a little but following Hagrid's instructions.
The moment Hermione stepped in, the boat gently rocked and settled into place.
With their group complete, Peter gave a little nod.
"All set."
They sat together, huddled in silence as mist rolled across the water.
The castle loomed larger and larger as they drifted toward their new lives.
Thankfully, it was nighttime, and no one could see how red Hermione's face had become. She tried to act casual as she trotted over to the boat, but the way she kept fiddling with her sleeves gave her away.
Ron watched her the whole time with a puzzled expression, while Harry felt a small sense of relief. Everyone in the boat with him was someone he already knew.
Once all the students were settled, Hagrid's booming voice rang out across the water.
"Alright now, hold tight!"
The boats, as if answering his command, lined themselves up in formation and began gliding forward smoothly. The water barely rippled as they floated silently across the dark lake.
As they drew closer to the opposite shore, the towering shape of the castle rose high into the night. It loomed above them, perched on the mountainside, its windows glowing warmly against the starless sky. The castle felt like something from a dream, a place painted with magic itself.
When the boats reached the cliff beneath the castle, everyone craned their necks to look up. The sheer walls of the mountain above made it feel as if the entire school floated in the sky. The silence that followed was a kind of shared awe—no one wanted to break it.
Hagrid led them off the boats and up a cobblestone path. They climbed a long flight of stone steps before reaching an enormous door. Hagrid knocked several times with his massive fist, the sound echoing deep into the stone.
Moments later, the door creaked open.
A tall woman stood in the entrance, her face sharp and serious, framed by square spectacles. Peter recognized her immediately.
"First years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here."
Her tone was calm but firm. The students quickly quieted down, shrinking under her gaze. Even the most fidgety ones stood still.
Peter was the only one who looked around, observing everything with quiet focus. They were led through the doorway into a corridor lined with stone walls. Dozens of torches flickered in iron sconces, casting long shadows across the floor. The walls were carved with strange symbols, shrines, and worn stone reliefs. Above them, the ceiling arched so high it seemed to vanish into darkness.
It was solemn. Ancient. Magical.
After passing through the corridor, the group stepped into a brightly lit entrance hall. It was vast, with polished floors and warm golden light spilling down from floating lamps. Ahead, a grand marble staircase wound upward, spliting in two and curling toward distant levels above.
The castle, now seen from within, was even more magnificent.
Peter's eyes glimmered, but he said nothing. This was only the beginning.