A beam of brilliant white energy shot out, striking the small hill with pinpoint accuracy.
BOOM!
With a deafening explosion, the hillside was leveled instantly.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood frozen, looking like wooden statues. It took several long moments for them to snap back to reality.
"That... that has to be high-level magic! Goku, I can't believe you can cast something that powerful!"
Hearing a story was one thing, but seeing it with your own eyes was another entirely. When Goku had been telling them about his adventures, they thought he was amazing and capable of great magic, but they had assumed there was a fair bit of exaggeration involved.
Goku wasn't exactly a master storyteller either; he gave broad strokes and skipped over the finer details, leaving them to fill in the blanks with their own imaginations.
Now, they realized that Goku hadn't been exaggerating in the slightest.
"You... you... you didn't use a wand!"
Hermione, finally finding her voice, turned to look at Goku with renewed shock. Though she was Muggle-born, she had spent the last two months devouring every book she could find. She had memorized A History of Magic, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century just to make sure she wouldn't be behind her peers.
She knew exactly what casting such a powerful, high-level spell without a wand implied. In the wizarding world, wandless magic was a skill mastered only by the most elite, top-tier wizards.
"That's true! Goku, how did you do that without a wand?" Ron added, finally catching on. In his world, a wand was a basic necessity. No wand meant no magic. It was as simple as that.
Harry wasn't as surprised by the lack of a wand—he didn't know the rules yet—but he was reeling from the sheer power. A hill over twenty meters high had just been flattened. It was more effective than any explosive he'd ever heard of. He couldn't help but think that if he learned magic like that, the Dursleys would never dare lay a finger on him again.
"It's not that hard once you get the hang of it," Goku said thoughtfully. "If you guys want to learn, I can teach you."
To Goku, firing a Dodon Ray wasn't overly complicated. You just had to train your body to a certain point and learn how to manipulate the Ki inside you.
"I want to learn!" Hermione was the first to raise her hand. How could she pass up the chance to learn wandless magic and a high-level offensive spell? If a boy her age could do it, she was determined to do it too.
"Me too!"
"Count me in!"
Ron and Harry chimed in immediately.
"Alright, then. I'll start teaching you tomorrow," Goku promised. The compartment was too cramped for proper training, and he had his big duel with Dumbledore tonight anyway. He decided he would show them how to train their bodies and harness their for the Dodon Ray the following day.
"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," the girl introduced herself, and the boys shared their names in return.
"I really should get back to helping Neville find his toad," Hermione said, standing up. "You lot should probably change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving at the station soon."
Just as she spoke, the compartment door was pushed open again.
"Is it true?" a voice asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is it you?"
Three boys walked in. The leader had pale, pointed features, sleek blond hair, and a cold, arrogant way of speaking that made even Hermione sound humble. Behind him stood two boys who looked more like bodyguards—thick-set, mean-looking, and noticeably dim-witted.
"This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," the blond boy said, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Harry's scar. "And my name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a small, stifled cough that sounded suspiciously like a snigger. Malfoy's eyes snapped to him.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. Red hair, a vacant stare, and a hand-me-down robe... you must be a Weasley. My father told me all the Weasleys have more children than they can afford."
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
"What did you say?" Ron stood up, his face as red as his hair, but Hermione held him back.
Harry looked at Malfoy coldly. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks. We don't want you here. Leave."
Harry already disliked this boy. He'd met him at Madam Malkin's, where he'd insulted Hagrid, and now he was insulting his friends.
Malfoy's pale face flushed with anger. As a scion of the Malfoy family—one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight—he expected people to be honored by his presence.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "Unless you're polite, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
"Say that again!" Harry's fists clenched.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy jeered, stepping back behind the bulk of Crabbe and Goyle. He knew these two could handle a few scrawny first-years with ease.
Harry and Ron looked at the two large boys and felt a momentary dip in their confidence.
"What? A fight? I love fighting!"
Goku, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly sprang to his feet. He stepped in front of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He hadn't quite followed all the rambling insults, but he understood one thing perfectly: these three boys wanted to scrap.
***
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