The sky was getting darker by the minute.
The flat fields dotted with cows and sheep were fading away,
Replaced by towering mountains and lush, green forests.
Ron had already called it quits a while back.
And Hermione, who'd been holding out this long—always eager to teach and chat non-stop—finally had to shut her mouth because her voice was giving out.
Taking advantage of the break while Hermione caught her breath, Ron and Neville shot Basil looks like he was their lifesaver.
Harry jumped in with a quick topic change: "Hey Basil, did you know? You made the paper today. The Daily Prophet."
Basil, who'd been lost in thought about how to buddy up with Hagrid—maybe swing by his cabin and casually snag some valuable stuff like unicorn tail hair—snapped his head up.
"The paper? No way! I left home super early this morning and got to the station by ten!"
Hermione nodded along. "There's a mention of the Daily Prophet in that book, Magical Societies of London. It's delivered by owl to subscribers for one Knut. They have a morning edition and an evening one called the Evening Prophet. And the weekend version is the Sunday Prophet."
"Today's Sunday, so Basil must've been in the Sunday Prophet!"
To keep Hermione from launching into another lecture, Harry quickly admitted, "Okay, maybe I got it wrong."
But Ron shook his head. "That's just what the books say. Everyone else, except maybe the paper itself, calls it all the Daily Prophet."
"There's no separate morning or evening on Sundays. And those Transfiguration charms aren't just for fixing mistakes in the news."
"They update in real time for big events that happen that day."
"That's why a paper you subscribed to at 7 a.m. could have a story about what Basil did at the station at 10 a.m."
Basil, who'd already figured Ron wasn't as clueless as he seemed in the movies, still put on a shocked face.
This was Ron?
Wasn't Ron supposed to be the dummy who just chowed down on chicken legs left and right?
Hermione looked like she wanted to add something.
But Neville's sudden yell cut her off mid-spell.
"Trevor!"
Hermione: "We've been looking for your toad!"
Ron blurted out: "A toad? People still keep those? They're worse than rats—only popular like decades ago."
Basil was touched beyond words inside: "He's back, he's back—the Ron I remember is back."
Harry clamped a hand over Ron's mouth. "Let's all help Neville look for it."
Alarm bells went off in Basil's head.
Unlike his original self, he wasn't a fan of running around everywhere.
Back in his old life at Youzhou No. 4 Middle School, he skipped stuff like watching movies at the People's Congress Hall, that week-long trip to Japan, or the summer exchange at Eton—all paid for.
At most, he'd hit the golf course on weekends.
So Basil quickly said: "Our stuff and pets will get taken to the dorms by the house-elves."
"Neville, just chill and sit tight."
"Plus, if you've read Our Magical Pets, you'd know that the first pet we raise forms this invisible bond because of our attention."
"That's why our pets end up smarter and longer-lived than the Muggle versions."
"While they're alive, anyway."
"Little wizards who raise toads end up tougher and more resilient."
"Pet toads adapt super well to spells—they're great for practicing charms or testing potions."
"And their skin absorbs liquids easily, so they're handy for trying out potions you have to drink."
"Trevor's that awesome?" Neville's eyes went wide.
"What about owls?" Harry asked curiously.
"Rats?" Ron patted Scabbers.
Hermione leaned forward a bit.
"Cats? I spent all my exchanged Galleons on books—I'm planning to get a cat as a pet next year."
Basil shrugged.
"Owls are just for delivering mail."
"If it's straight-up mail or a little prank, they can find any wizard you know."
"Little wizards who raise them get more agile and better at directions."
"Rats just live longer."
"Little wizards who raise them can eat a ton without gaining weight."
Ron's face lit up. "Awesome! I can chow down more and not worry about getting fat!"
Basil thought to himself: "Assuming it's actually a rat. But a rat that normally lives 3 years max, turning into a wizard's pet and lasting nearly 11? That's nuts. Though, probably because so few people raise rats as wizard pets. No one knows how long they can really live. That's why Ron's parents never questioned it?"
He was about to talk about cats next.
But Hermione jumped in with a pleading tone: "Basil, can you skip the perks of raising cats? I wanna eat more without gaining weight too."
"New question: Does that mean second, third, or later pets don't form bonds?"
"Alright." Basil yawned. "Later pets aren't bonded—it's more like a one-way blessing. They just get powered up from our attention. Basically, our magic field rubs off on theirs, giving them abilities Muggle animals don't have."
"We wizards don't get anything back from them."
"If we did, Newt Scamander would be the most powerful wizard alive right now."
With that, he glanced out the window.
The sky had turned a deep purple.
The rolling mountains were slowing down too.
"You probably won't have time to talk about cats now anyway."
"Hogwarts is almost here."
Neville stood up to head back to his old compartment and change clothes.
Hermione reluctantly left the compartment for a bit too.
The three guys in the compartment stripped off their outer clothes and pulled on their black robes.
Ron's was a bit short—it showed his sneakers underneath.
A voice suddenly echoed through the train.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train—it will be taken to the school separately."
Harry and Ron suddenly got nervous.
Ron's face went pale.
But even then, he didn't forget to stuff the leftover snacks and candies into his pockets.
Driven by what little conscience he had left, Basil wiggled his pinky finger and hit those treats with a quick Scourgify.
About five minutes later, the train slowed to a stop.
After regrouping in the compartment, the five of them joined the crowd heading toward the doors.
A bunch of students who recognized Basil called out greetings as they passed.
Harry cleverly used his bangs to cover his scar.
Until they stepped out into the chilly night onto a dark, tiny platform, where a booming voice totally blew Harry's cover.
"First years! First years over here! Harry, over here—how yeh doin'?"
Basil turned to look—his future gold mine, Hagrid, was holding a lantern in his left hand and waving wildly toward Harry with his right.
Like he was making sure no one could miss spotting Harry.
In an instant, the crowd parted, leaving a one-person-wide path between Harry and Hagrid.
Harry, embarrassed and wishing he could dig a hole and vanish, copied Basil's outgoing vibe from earlier and waved back.
As the leader of the group, he guided the first-years toward Hagrid.
Just as Harry was about to reach Hagrid, Basil jumped in, throwing an arm around Harry.
He tilted his head up, flashing a warm, polished smile.
"I'm Harry's friend, Basil."
"You must be Hagrid, right?"
"Harry's mentioned you a lot."
"Dumbledore's most trusted guy, the kind-hearted giant, the Forbidden Forest's guardian."
"Can we be friends?" Basil stuck out his right hand.
Hagrid paused for a second, saw Harry nodding along.
Then he reached out with his massive, fan-like hand.
As the big hand gripped the small one.
[Ding! Your friend [Rubeus Hagrid] sends a friend request]