Chapter 17: The Journey on the Train
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A red-haired boy peeked into our train compartment. After glancing around quickly, he asked, "Excuse me, can I come in? All the other compartments are full."
Harry and I exchanged looks and nodded in agreement. The boy stepped in, seeming a little nervous as his eyes darted between the two of us, as if trying to figure something out.
"Hello, I'm Ron Weasley," he said politely.
I already knew who he was—Ron Weasley, the youngest son of the famous Weasley family—but I kept my face neutral and introduced myself casually, hiding any recognition.
After my introduction, Harry also gave his name.
"What—You—You're Harry Potter? Do you really have the scar on your forehead?" Ron asked, his voice filled with astonishment.
Harry hesitated slightly, then brushed aside some of his messy hair, revealing the iconic lightning-shaped scar—the mark of "The Boy Who Lived."
Ron gasped in amazement, clearly overwhelmed by the realization. However, when he noticed Harry's discomfort, he reined in his excitement, trying not to overwhelm him further.
At that moment, I also looked at Harry's scar more closely. My eyes, which could sense magical energy, detected a strange black aura around it. Intrigued, I focused deeper—and to my surprise, I saw a shadowy, twisted face-like form attached to his soul. Fortunately, it seemed to be in a dormant state and wasn't currently affecting him much. Still, it explained why his magical presence felt a bit... unstable.
Meanwhile, Ron had started chatting about his family and their history. I pulled my attention away from the scar and returned to quietly reading one of my books, occasionally glancing at the two boys as they talked. Eventually, the topic shifted to the four Hogwarts houses.
"My whole family has been in Gryffindor," Ron said proudly. "It's the best house of all. Even Albus Dumbledore was a Gryffindor! Slytherin is full of dark wizards and Death Eaters. Ravenclaw is for bookworms, and Hufflepuff... well, that's for the rest."
I raised my eyebrows at the oversimplified—and slightly offensive—summary. Before he could continue, I interrupted.
"Every house at Hogwarts has its strengths and weaknesses," I said calmly. "They each value different qualities. Being in Gryffindor doesn't make someone better, and being in Slytherin or any other house doesn't make someone bad or weak."
Ron looked defensive. "But Gryffindor is where Dumbledore came from! And You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters were mostly Slytherins."
"That doesn't make one house superior," I replied. "All students follow the same curriculum, taught by the same professors. If you believe a house is better just because of who was in it, you're ignoring what matters most—the individual choices and values of the students themselves."
I looked at both Ron and Harry, speaking with emphasis and subtle hand gestures to help them grasp my point.
They seemed to want to argue but couldn't find a strong enough reason to challenge my logic. I could tell they were thinking about what I said, especially Harry.
Truthfully, I wanted to influence their perspectives before they met Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape. Their future interactions might color their judgment and make them view Slytherins in a negative light—just like in the original timeline. I hoped to prevent that.
After the debate, I didn't talk much with Ron. I wanted my words to linger in his mind. Though honestly, I wasn't sure if he truly understood the depth of what I meant.
Time passed, and eventually, we began chatting casually again. The tension eased, and we started to get along better. When the trolley lady came by, Harry generously bought snacks for all of us, which lightened the mood even more.
Excitedly, Ron said he wanted to show us a magic spell. It went almost exactly as I remembered from the original story. Just as Ron raised his wand to try a spell on his pet rat, the compartment door slid open.
A young witch stepped in. She had a bushy head of brown hair and a confident look in her eyes—it was Hermione Granger. She bore some resemblance to Emma Watson from the films, though I found her even more beautiful in real life. There was something sharp yet endearing about her features.
She glanced at the three of us and asked if we'd seen Neville Longbottom's toad. We hadn't, but then her attention shifted to Ron's spellcasting attempt.
As Ron failed to produce any effect on his rat, I narrowed my eyes. I stared at the rat for a moment, recognizing it immediately—it was no ordinary pet. It was Peter Pettigrew in his Animagus form.
Before Hermione could say anything, I silently raised my hand. With a subtle flick of my fingers, I cast a silent spell.
In a blink, the rat transformed into a silver goblet—a grail—hovering in midair.
Everyone in the compartment froze, staring at the transformation in utter disbelief.
"Did you just use wandless magic?" Hermione asked, her voice filled with awe and curiosity.
Harry's eyes widened too, though he didn't fully grasp how rare and difficult wandless magic was. Hermione, however, had been obsessively studying over the summer and knew just how extraordinary it was.
Ron's jaw dropped. "Blimey... if I practice enough, do you think I can do that too?"
I didn't answer his question. Instead, I looked at Hermione. Her expression had shifted from amazement to uncertainty—she was beginning to feel insecure, perhaps worried that her efforts to study couldn't match the natural talent of some magical children.
Sensing the tension in the room, I coughed lightly to change the atmosphere.
Before I could speak, Hermione quickly pulled out her wand, pointed it at Harry, and muttered, "Oculus Reparo."
In an instant, Harry's cracked glasses were restored to perfection.
"See? I can do magic too! And I'll catch up with you all soon," she declared with a determined tone, though it was tinged with frustration. She then glanced at the stack of books on the seat beside me—the ones I'd authored.
Without saying another word, she turned and left the compartment. As she exited, I noticed the flicker of interest in her eyes as they lingered on the book covers.
"Merlin's beard, she didn't even tell us her name," Ron muttered. "I hope she doesn't end up in Gryffindor—I really don't want to share a house with her."
Harry chuckled and nodded in agreement.
I let out a quiet sigh and thought, This must be why she struggled to make friends during her first year. Things are already unfolding differently for her.
Soon after, the announcement came that we were nearing Hogsmeade Station. We all changed into our school robes and prepared to disembark.
When we finally arrived at the station and stepped off the train, a loud voice called out for all first-years.
Standing tall among the crowd was a giant of a man with wild black hair and a friendly face.
It was none other than Rubeus Hagrid—Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Let me know when you're ready for Chapter 18!
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sorry for the delay update. my computer isn't working. so it took time to write.
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