"Wait a second." Harry didn't argue with Hermione.
As soon as he finished speaking, a toad flew in from the doorway and landed right in front of Harry, perfectly accurately.
"Look, is this the toad you've been looking for?" Harry asked.
Hermione's eyes widened, staring at Harry in disbelief.
The Summoning Charm was something only taught in fourth year—she'd only just noticed this yesterday while reading for fun.
"That's amazing!" Ron sat up straight, genuinely impressed. "Mate, you really are the boy who defeated You-Know-Who!"
Hermione, who'd been struggling, suddenly felt relieved. Right, he was the Savior after all.
"I'd better go return the toad to Neville, he's absolutely frantic." Hermione picked up the toad and said to Harry, "Thank you, Harry, after I drop it off, I'll come back—I still have so many spells to ask you about..."
Not waiting for Harry's reply, Hermione swept off with the toad, leaving the compartment.
"She's kind of scary, isn't she?" Ron looked anxiously at the door. He didn't know why, but whenever Hermione was around, he always felt like he couldn't lift his head.
Harry shrugged. Back when he pestered Sebastian to teach him to duel, he was much more annoying than Hermione.
"No matter which house I'm sorted into, I just hope it's not with her." Ron kept talking. "Merlin, she reminds me of Percy, although she's even more...um."
He tossed his magic wand into the trunk and muttered, "Useless spell, just another prank from George—once you get to school, be careful of those two, never trust a word they say, and especially don't eat anything they give you. Seriously, if you don't believe me, you'll regret it."
Harry nodded knowingly. Even their sweet baby brother was tricked—those twins must be a special breed of mischief.
"Which house are they in?" Harry asked, guessing almost certainly Gryffindor.
Sure enough, Ron replied, "Gryffindor. Mum and Dad were both in Gryffindor, all five of my brothers too. If I don't get into Gryffindor, I don't even want to think about what they'll say—though I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw, but please don't let me end up in Slytherin—"
"Why?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"Because Slytherin is all Dark Wizards," Ron answered matter-of-factly.
Harry raised his eyebrows. While Slytherins didn't mind studying Dark Magic, that was a bit of a blunt statement.
Has the division between the houses already gotten this deep after a hundred years?
"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, wondering if anything had changed over the century.
"Because You-Know-Who was from Slytherin, and after him, pretty much all the Slytherins followed him." Ron muttered, "You know what kind of person You-Know-Who was. Anyone who followed him isn't a good person—that's all heartless Dark Wizards."
Harry sighed.
Bloody hell, how did Slytherin end up like this!
"Oh, I'm back." Hermione's voice called from outside. "I searched everywhere and couldn't find Neville, so I just put the toad in a box on his desk. What are you two talking about?"
"Houses," Ron forced a little smile.
Seeing Ron's forced smile, Hermione asked with concern, "Are you okay? Did something happen?"
"I'm just thinking...what will happen if I'm not sorted into Gryffindor." Ron propped his chin in his hands. "Fred told me that new students have to pass some test before they get sorted. In their year it was groups of ten against a Giant."
"Didn't you say," Harry found a hole in the story, "you couldn't trust a thing those two say?"
"True, but I asked Dad—and he told me the same thing," Ron's expression darkened, "though in their year, it was a little easier—five people against an Eight-eyed Giant Spider. Even then, one unlucky kid got bitten and had to stay in the infirmary for a month before waking up..."
Just then, an arrogant voice came from the doorway.
"So it's true, Harry Potter really is on this train?"
The three of them turned toward the door, where a thin boy with pale blond hair slicked back with hair gel stood, awkwardly trying to look grown up.
Pale blond hair, grey eyes, and that arrogance—Harry knew his identity immediately.
Another Malfoy!
Standing beside him were two other boys: one tall and pudgy, the other short and stout, neither particularly pleasing to look at—definitely his cronies.
"That's Crabbe, and that's Gall." The Malfoy began introducing his followers. "My name is Draco, Draco Malfoy..."
Ron coughed gently, trying hard not to laugh.
"You think my name is funny, is that it?" Draco squinted at Ron. "I don't even need to ask who you are—red hair, shabby robes, must be a Weasley. My father told me the Weasley family has so many kids they can barely afford them."
Then he turned to Harry, "You'll find that some wizarding families are much better than others. Not like some people's families. Potter, you're not planning to make friends with the wrong sort, are you? On that point, I could help you."
He extended a hand, wanting to shake with Harry.
Harry considered himself pretty calm, but this Malfoy was pushing his limits.
Seeing that smug, spoiled look, he couldn't help but think of Cassandra.
But Cassandra was always well-mannered. She'd never mock someone's background, let alone insult them outright.
This little Malfoy...clearly brought up badly, no manners at all.
"I think you should apologize," Harry said icily. "At the very least, kids from proper families don't openly criticize other people's background."
"Harry's right." Hermione stood up, resolutely positioning herself beside Harry and Ron.
Ron's eyes turned red. He hadn't expected these two, whom he'd only just met, would stand up for him like this.
"And who are you?" Draco frowned at Hermione.
"Hermione Granger." Hermione answered, chin held high.
At Hermione's answer, Draco let out a sneer.
"So a little Mudblood—you filthy..."
"Shut up!" Ron jumped up, pointing his magic wand at Draco. "How dare you! How dare you say that word!"
Draco glanced back at his two lackeys, smirking nastily. "Ooh, sticking up for your little girlfriend, Weasley? You sure you're ready to face the consequences of casting spells on me? My father's on the board of governors, he could get your dad sacked with a single word. Just think about it—your family's already too poor to feed its kids. What'll you do if your dad loses his job?"
But the only response he got was one sentence.
"Leviosa!"
A beam of yellow light hit Draco, and he floated up, gently bouncing his head against the doorframe.
The one who cast the spell wasn't Ron, and it wasn't Hermione.
It was Harry.