---
He had just sat down. That much he was sure of.
Sunlight spilled through the narrow window of the Hogwarts Express, painting the train cabin in lazy gold. The air smelled like old cushions, iron tracks, and just a whiff of adventure. He blinked slowly, his vision settling on the round face of a bespectacled boy across from him, who looked equally unsure of where he was supposed to put his knees. Their legs had knocked once already. No one had apologized.
Then the memory—or sensation—hit: he was Ron Weasley.
There was no dream, no tunnel of light, no floating above his body or god handing him a "congratulations, you're in fanfic" card. One moment he was… somewhere else. And now he was here. A redhead. On a train. To wizard school.
He stared at the green blur of countryside rushing past the window.
Huh. Magic. That's new.
"Well, I guess we're doing this," he muttered, mostly to himself.
Across from him, Harry blinked.
"You say something?" he asked, voice light, unsure.
"Yeah," the MC said, propping his head up with his palm, elbow on the window. "I said... nap time."
"What?"
"Look, I don't know you, you don't know me—yet—but we'll be great friends, probably. Right now, though?" He yawned theatrically. "This whole 'magical train' thing is a bit much for me pre-snack. Let's just sleep and reboot later."
Harry gave a strange, half-amused smile. "You're weird."
"Thanks. I'm Ron." He stuck his hand out, then laid back down without checking if Harry shook it. "Now nap, Potter."
The last thing he heard before drifting off was Harry chuckling softly. The kid had a quiet laugh.
---
Time passed in a warm blur. Not deep sleep, but a hazy, drifting state where his body felt weightless and real all at once. He liked the rhythm of the train. It reminded him of something—something comforting, like summer fans and long car rides.
Then the door slid open with a clack.
"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."
The voice was crisp, quick, and slightly bossy.
He cracked one eye open.
She had a lot of hair. That was his first thought. Bushy, eager curls that bounced as she stepped in. Her tie was already perfect. Her shoes polished. She had big front teeth and eyes that sparkled with I read the rules and I brought copies energy.
"Hello," she said again, glancing at Harry first, then at him. "Has either of you—?"
"Hello there, beautiful," the MC said smoothly, not even sitting up. His body remained draped across the seat like a lounging cat, one elbow propped beneath his head, expression lazy and amused. "Of course you can."
Hermione froze.
"I—what?"
"You asked if you could sit. Or you were going to. You have that look." He waved vaguely in her direction. "Permission granted."
"I—no—I wasn't—I mean—I was looking for a toad," she stammered, cheeks flushing rapidly.
Harry blinked in disbelief. Ron was still in his reclined pose, eyebrow raised, half-smiling like this was just another Tuesday.
"I, uh—I think I'll check another compartment—thank you," Hermione squeaked, nearly turning into her own hair as she backed out and slid the door shut.
Silence.
Then Harry snorted. "What was that?"
"I dunno," said the MC, finally sitting upright and stretching like he'd just woken up on a beach. "I was feeling dramatic."
"She looked like she didn't know if she should slap you or call the teacher."
"Probably both," he said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "She'll be back."
"Back?"
"Oh yeah," the MC said, now rummaging casually through his pockets for—something? Anything? "That one's got main character energy."
Harry stared at him.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said innocently, finding a chocolate frog and holding it up like treasure. "Want half?"
Harry hesitated, then took the offered half like it might bite him.
Ron bit into his piece with a satisfying crunch just as the frog's chocolate leg tried to leap away. He chewed contentedly.
Across from him, Harry held his half, watching the little confection twitch once before going still. Its tiny chocolate eyes froze in a final, pleading blink.
He looked disturbed.
Ron watched him, still chewing.
"Y'know," he said, tilting his head as if considering a minor philosophical truth, "maybe we're eating the frog that girl was looking for."
Harry stared at the remains of the frog in his hand.
Then at Ron.
Then at the frog.
Ron took another bite and raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for the realization to land.
"I… I don't think it was chocolate," Harry said slowly, now visibly second-guessing all his life choices.
"Nah, probably not." Ron licked a smear of chocolate off his thumb. "But imagine if it was."
Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and gave him the exact look someone gives a cat that just knocked a glass off a table on purpose.
"You're strange," he said.
"Mm," Ron replied, as if that was a compliment. "So, what's your deal anyway? You're Harry Potter, yeah?"
Harry shifted awkwardly. "Yeah."
"Cool," Ron said, like Harry had just told him his name was Steve and he worked in plumbing. "Scar's real, then?"
Harry reached up unconsciously, brushing his bangs back. The lightning bolt peeked through like something embarrassed to be seen.
"Reckon it's mad having everyone stare at your forehead all the time," Ron added.
"Yeah. Kinda is," Harry muttered.
Ron nodded in solidarity and offered him the Chocolate Frog card from the wrapper. "Dumbledore again. You want it?"
Harry blinked. "You're not collecting them?"
"Nah. I'm here for the frogs."
Harry laughed—genuinely this time.
It was small. Soft. The kind of laugh that slips out when someone catches you off guard.
Ron kicked his feet up on the seat across from him and folded his arms behind his head.
"Anyway, don't worry," he said, closing his eyes again. "We're not the kind of people who'd eat someone's lost pet on day one."
"You're sure?"
"I mean, like... 78% sure."
Harry made a strangled sound somewhere between a snort and a sigh.