Toot toot—
"Excuse me, are there any seats left in here?"
At the sound of the knock and the question, Lucien and Hermione, both engrossed in their books, looked up simultaneously.
Before either could respond, the compartment door slid open with a whoosh. Two boys stood in the doorway. One had messy black hair, round glasses with a noticeable crack, and bright green eyes that flicked nervously toward Lucien and Hermione. The other sported red hair, a big nose, blue eyes, and a face full of freckles, his frame just as lanky as the black-haired boy's.
The two exchanged a quick glance before the redhead spoke up, a bit awkwardly. "Er, sorry to bother you. All the other compartments are full. Mind if we sit here?"
His tone was hesitant, almost sheepish.
Hermione didn't answer right away. She was perfectly content with just her and Lucien, quietly reading. The black-haired boy seemed alright—reserved, maybe—but the redhead? He gave off a loud, chaotic vibe. Even though they'd just met, she already felt like they wouldn't get along.
She glanced at Lucien for his opinion, but he was too busy sizing up the newcomers, a faint, amused smile tugging at his lips. He hadn't noticed her look.
Black hair, round glasses, green eyes. Red hair, freckles. Well, well, well, Lucien thought. If it isn't the Chosen One and his trusty sidekick. The Golden Trio, coming together right on cue. Perfect timing, too—he needed to keep tabs on Harry to track down the Philosopher's Stone for that Qilin loan potion task.
Following Harry through the plot was the easiest way to find the Stone. Lucien was certain Dumbledore had already set everything up for Harry to get it. Maybe he could nudge Harry to go after it early? That way, Lucien could start experimenting with potion-brewing sooner and clear the loan faster.
As Harry started to squirm under Lucien's scrutiny, Lucien shifted his gaze, his smile polite but warm. "Come on in."
Harry and Ron let out quiet sighs of relief. Hermione stood, moving to sit beside Lucien. The two boys quickly stowed their luggage and settled in.
"Hi, I'm Ron Weasley," the redhead said, running a hand through his messy hair as he introduced himself.
Lucien and Hermione returned the greeting, sharing their names. All eyes then turned to the quiet, skinny boy with the glasses, who hadn't spoken yet.
Harry shifted uncomfortably. Growing up shunned by his aunt's family and neighbors, he wasn't used to being around people like him—people who could use magic. Adjusting his glasses, he mustered some courage. "Hi, I'm… I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
Lucien just nodded, already expecting it. But Hermione and Ron? Their reactions were dramatic, especially Ron's.
"You're Harry Potter?" Ron's eyes went wide. "The Boy Who Lived?!"
Hermione, coming from a Muggle family, had only read about Harry in wizarding books over the summer. But Ron, a Weasley—one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, despite their financial struggles—knew Harry's legend like the back of his hand. To him, Harry's name was larger than life.
"You've got… you know… the scar?" Ron asked, practically glowing with excitement.
Harry nodded shyly, brushing back his bangs to reveal the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
That sent Ron into overdrive. He launched into a flood of rumors and tales about Harry, half of which left Harry himself bewildered, muttering, "I didn't know about that."
Hermione, initially curious, quickly grew annoyed at Ron's nonstop chatter. This redhead is so loud! All she wanted was to get back to her book.
Just as she was about to cut Ron off, a vendor appeared at the compartment door. "Anything from the trolley, dears?"
Ron's eyes locked onto the cart's dazzling array of snacks, and he swallowed hard. But then he turned away, pulling a sad, squashed lump of food from his pocket. "No, thanks," he mumbled. "I brought my own."
The Weasleys were an old pure-blood family, but money was tight. With five older brothers—three still at Hogwarts—and a younger sister, Ron's pocket money was barely a Knut.
"I'll take some," Lucien said, pulling out a handful of Galleons and Sickles and passing them to the vendor.
Ron's jaw dropped. That casual handful was more than his entire year's allowance!
"Er, I'll get some too," Harry added, tossing in a few Galleons.
Ron blinked, stunned. Not even a Sickle or a Knut? Does he even know how much a Galleon's worth? Was the Potter family really that rich? Did selling shampoo make that much money?
Actually, Ron wasn't far off. The Potter family's shampoo empire practically monopolized the wizarding haircare market. And with Harry as the sole heir, all that wealth was his.
Between Lucien and Harry, they bought nearly the entire trolley's stock. Snacks piled high on the table, and Ron swallowed again, clearly dying to dig in but too proud to ask.
"Help yourself," Lucien said casually, flicking his wand to send snacks floating toward the trio.
Kids were easy to win over—toss them some candy, and they'd follow you anywhere. Building rapport with the trio now would pay off later when they started uncovering clues about the Philosopher's Stone. Plus, it'd keep him in the loop on their progress.
To Ron, Lucien's voice was like music, his generosity practically angelic, especially paired with that charming face. Ron barely registered that Lucien, a first-year, had just used a Levitation Charm with ease—a rare feat for a new student.
Harry shared his snacks too, passing them out by hand since he didn't know any spells yet. Ron thanked him but was clearly more touched by Lucien's gesture, since he'd shared first.
Lucien opened a Chocolate Frog, and the frog leaped out, aiming for freedom. He snatched it mid-air and popped it in his mouth, then flipped over the card inside. Each frog came with a collectible card featuring a famous witch or wizard.
He glanced at the portrait. Oh, great. Old Bat.
Severus Snape's cold, piercing eyes stared back through greasy black hair. Lucien smirked. Time to wash that hair, mate. Maybe he'd send Snape some Potter-family shampoo as a joke.
Flipping the card, he read Snape's achievements: Systematic improvements to Veritaserum, optimized extraction of bezoars…
"Um, excuse me…" a nervous voice interrupted.
Lucien looked up to see a round-faced, stocky boy standing anxiously in the doorway. "Have any of you seen my toad? His name's Trevor."
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