Sean saw what those so-called Chocolate Frog cards were like for the first time, and of course, the young witches and wizards in Compartment Two were seeing them for the first time too.
Naturally, the conversation circled back to the cards once more.
"Wow! Derwent Shimpling!"
"Do you know him?"
"I don't, but I'm deeply impressed by what he did."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up as she took the card from Justin's hand.
"Derwent Shimpling, who survived eating an entire Devil's Snare plant on a bet, though his body remained purple."
Hermione read to the end, then tilted her head and shot Justin a glare.
"Idiot."
"All right, you're right."
Justin didn't argue a bit, and their gazes both fell on Hermione's card.
"Godric Gryffindor,"
Hermione lifted her chin, her lips curving into a wide smile,
"one of the founders of Hogwarts, with one of the houses named after him."
"That's brilliant. I read about him in Hogwarts: A History—the book says he left a sword behind in the castle."
Justin sighed in genuine admiration, and Hermione narrowed her eyes, clearly pleased.
While they chatted, the train had long since left London behind, racing now across fields dotted with cows and sheep.
The two fell silent for a moment, watching the vast grasslands and rolling hills flash by, occasionally spotting riders on fine horses in white riding habits, looking like white flowers from an oil painting.
"You know, he really is awfully quiet."
Hermione didn't say the name, but Justin knew exactly who she meant.
"Not always."
Justin chuckled, his face dimpling in that healing way of his,
"Sean, for Merlin's sake, sort out this pumpkin pasty—lend a hand."
With that, a slender hand darted out and vanished.
"Thanks."
A few seconds later, the voice drifted from behind the thick, hefty brown book.
Justin's dimples deepened.
"My mum told me that people who are truly capable are often the quiet ones— even a mountain crashing down in front of them wouldn't faze them. But they're usually not the luckiest sort..."
Justin's gaze landed on Sean's pilled jumper and his focused face, the implication clear,
"Mum said I always need friends like that.
Her advice helped me find my mates at Samfield School— turns out she was spot on. I reckon we'll be lifelong friends.
We promised each other that even at different schools, we'd never lose touch— oh, if you're curious, I'd be happy to share our letters with you."
As Justin spoke, he opened his trunk. Besides the items on the Hogwarts supply list, the most eye-catching thing was the neat stack of letters, with a scattering of photos nearby—group shots of Justin and his friends, by the look of it.
As Hermione eyed it all in mild surprise, a voice thick with tears suddenly rang out: "Trevor! Where are you?"
A round-faced boy squeezed into the compartment, shrinking back a bit as he asked, "Sorry, have you seen my toad?"
By now, the train had covered two-thirds of the journey.
Sean was pulled from his focus by the warm, dim yellow glow of the train's lights. He rubbed his eyes; the compartment was empty now, just him.
Glancing at the darkening sky outside, he was about to fetch his robes and change when, closing One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, he spotted a note tucked inside.
It read:
[Sean, we're off to help a lad named Neville find his toad—if you fancy joining, you'll find us in the corridor.]
Sean thought for a moment, then scribbled on the back:
[Train's nearly at the station—don't forget to change.]
With that, he gathered his school robes and slid open the compartment door.
The corridor was a riot of noise, far louder than before—probably because the kids from the compartments had all gotten chummy, so their chatter had ramped up.
As Sean passed one compartment, he caught the tail end of an argument inside.
"Daisies, clotted cream, and sunshine—turn this daft fat rat yellow."
It was a boy's young voice.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?"
A girl was asking,
"It doesn't seem like much, does it? I've tried a few simple charms at home, just to practice, and they all worked. So what I mean is— watch this.
Reparo."
Sean had a fair idea of what was going on and was about to peek in when a boy with platinum-blond hair flung open the door, two burly lads like bodyguards trailing behind him.
Sean didn't need to guess what came next.
Sure enough, soon a sneering voice drawled:
"If I were you, Potter, I'd be especially careful. You'd do well to be a bit politer, or you'll wind up just like your parents. They didn't know their place either—and if you hang around with the wrong sort, like the Weasleys or Hagrid, it'll rub off on you."
Vicious tongue on that one.
Sean noted silently to himself, not looking back as he headed to the changing room.
From that tense compartment came a yelp soon after— Sean could guess it straight off: Scabbers had nipped Goyle, bailing Harry out.
If memory serves, that was the one and only time Wormtail ever helped Harry?
By the time Compartment Two filled up again with young witches and wizards, the train's rumbling had reached a fever pitch, the scarlet steam engine slowing to a crawl.
Outside the window,
under a deep purple sky, stretched endless mountains and forests.
Hermione and Justin's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement.
The three disembarked the Hogwarts Express one by one, stepping onto a tiny, pitch-black platform.
From afar, they spotted a giant holding a lantern, who looked for all the world like one of those man-eating monsters from a fairy tale.
The night air bit with chill,
but this time Sean didn't shiver—his donated, hole-riddled clothes were gone, replaced by the plain Hogwarts robes and underlayers,
warm as anything.
Following Hagrid through the woods, they caught their first glimpse of Hogwarts Castle, and every young witch and wizard let out a resounding:
"Waow—"
Justin hollered the loudest, earning glares from Hermione.
"Forgive me, Hermione—Eton wasn't easy to leave behind, but my choice was the right one. Look at this castle, those floating candles, the moving statues... If my mum saw this—I mean, she'd be proud."
Gliding across the Black Lake in little boats, docking at the shore, climbing the cliffside stairs—
the young witches and wizards halted at the entrance hall doors to the Great Hall, then listened to Professor McGonagall's explanation of the Sorting.