At last—the train was moving.
Knock, knock, knock.
A tapping sound came from the door.
It slid open, revealing a small head of bright red hair.
"Is anyone sitting here?" he asked, pointing to the seat beside Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
Both boys shook their heads.
The newcomer stepped in somewhat awkwardly, set down his luggage, and immediately turned to stare out the window—as if he existed in a different dimension from them.
That was, until he heard Lewis address Harry by name.
"My name's Ron Weasley… are you really Harry Potter?" the boy suddenly blurted out.
So this is Ron Weasley—one of Hermione's two useless men.
Even with Lewis's butterfly effect, these two still met on the train.
Was this what they called fate?
"Then… you've really got—you know…" Ron gestured toward Harry's forehead.
Harry sighed, brushing aside his bangs to reveal the lightning-shaped scar.
He had clearly done this countless times already. Only Lewis hadn't reacted with exaggerated shock.
Ron's eyes widened. "That's what You-Know-Who did?"
"Yes," Harry said. "But I don't remember it."
"Not at all?" Ron pressed.
"Well… I remember lots of green light. That's about it."
"Just remembering that is impressive," Lewis cut in calmly. "Most people can't recall anything from infancy."
Then he smoothly changed the subject.
"By the way, I heard there's a Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts. Muggle schools don't have anything like that."
He still had some lingering friendship with Harry. Shifting the topic like this was simply to avoid stirring up painful memories.
At the mention of Hogwarts and sorting, both boys perked up.
Ron immediately said, "I think I'll be in Gryffindor. My whole family was there. If I don't get in… I don't even want to think about it. But no matter what, I definitely don't want to end up in Slytherin."
"That's where Vol—sorry, I mean… You-Know-Who was, right?" Harry said.
Ron nodded. "Exactly. That's why I've been praying not to get sorted there."
Lewis reassured him, "From what I've heard, your own will matters a lot in sorting. If you truly want Gryffindor, just stick to that thought—you'll probably end up there."
Ron looked skeptical. "Really? Do you know how it works? Fred and George said it's some dangerous test, but they won't tell me what!"
Lewis grinned. "That's part of the tradition… you'll find out soon enough."
Ron's face darkened.
Riddle-speakers should be banned from Hogwarts.
After learning that both Lewis and Harry came from the Muggle world and knew little about magic, Ron became excited and launched into an enthusiastic explanation—
Though most of it was just him complaining about his own situation.
He talked about Quidditch, proudly mentioning his broom—a Comet.
Which, apparently, couldn't even outrun a butterfly.
Then came the complaints.
His wand used to belong to his second brother, Charlie.
His robes were hand-me-downs from Bill.
His wizard chess set was his grandfather's—practically an heirloom. The pieces even claimed to be from his grandfather's generation.
Even his pet rat, Scabbers, used to belong to—well, not Voldemort—Percy.
Lewis glanced at the rat.
Peter Pettigrew, he corrected silently.
Then he comforted Ron.
"You really don't need to worry about that. If we're comparing, I've got it worse. Everything I own except my wand is second-hand. I don't have a family—and I'll have to repay student loans after graduation…"
Ron immediately looked apologetic.
But Lewis noticed—
His expression improved. The resentment vanished.
Of course.
As the saying went—
You don't want your brother to suffer… but you also don't want him driving a luxury car.
Comparison breeds comfort.
As the train sped onward, the scenery outside gradually changed.
Fields gave way to dense forests, winding rivers, and dark green hills.
By the time night fell, Ron had finally stopped talking.
Harry, to his credit, was an excellent listener—if you ignored the nonstop eating.
Perhaps due to years of deprivation at the Dursleys, Harry had gone on a full-scale snack spree.
Wrappers littered the table.
In front of him lay a stack of Chocolate Frog cards—several of them featuring Dumbledore.
Lucky… or not?
"Get changed," Lewis said, pushing open the compartment door. "I just asked some older students—the train's about to arrive."
He had stepped out earlier, partly to escape Ron's chatter, and partly out of curiosity about other characters.
During that time, he encountered a girl with bushy hair searching for Neville's toad.
Hermione Granger.
Just as adorable as in the movies—though her personality left something to be desired.
As an adult at heart, Lewis could see right through her.
She was simply too competitive.
In the Muggle world, she had always been the top student—the one everyone admired.
Now, in a new environment where she didn't know how she compared, her pride had turned into insecurity.
Her slightly overbearing attitude?
Just a defensive shell.
Once she confirmed her position at Hogwarts, that shell would disappear.
Since becoming a Psion, Lewis had grown increasingly perceptive of others' thoughts.
He was confident that one day, he would master Legilimency.
Using the Summoning Charm, he easily retrieved Neville's toad.
For now, though, he had no intention of getting too involved with Hermione.
They were still too young.
A casual friendship was enough.
Anything more?
That could wait a few years.
"Lewis, you're back! You missed it—we got into a fight with Malfoy. If you were here, we could've wiped the floor with them!" Ron complained.
Harry nodded in agreement.
Lewis might not look strong, but he could definitely handle himself.
Lewis didn't respond.
If Malfoy caused trouble, he wouldn't mind teaching the boy a lesson.
Against first-years who barely knew any spells—
His fists were enough.
The three quickly changed into their black robes.
Ron's were too short, exposing his sneakers.
Apparently, his brother had been smaller at that age.
Ron looked embarrassed.
Lewis, on the other hand, thought it wasn't bad.
At least it made movement easier—no risk of tripping over the hem.
"Five minutes to arrival at Hogwarts. Please leave your luggage on the train—it will be delivered to the school."
The announcement echoed through the carriage.
"We're almost there… the magical world… I—I'm a bit nervous," Harry admitted, clutching his stomach.
He wasn't alone.
Even Ron's freckled face had gone pale.
He was probably recalling the terrifying "sorting process" described by his brothers.
Amid the tension—
The train slowed.
And finally—
Came to a stop.