"Choo-choo-choo~~~"
A long whistle sounded as the train slowly pulled away from the platform at King's Cross Station, nine and three-quarters.
In the swaying compartment, Kyle held his wand aloft, demonstrating magic to Hermione.
"The power of a spell isn't fixed—it's closely tied to your emotions. If you can channel strong feelings while casting, the spell's strength will increase accordingly."
Kyle maintained the Wand-Lighting Charm. "Like this."
As he spoke, the faint glow at his wand tip suddenly flared, visibly intensifying dozens of times over.
"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed in awe. "The books never mentioned that."
There were plenty of things the books didn't mention.
The same spell, in the hands of a master versus an apprentice, could produce effects as different as two entirely separate spells.
Take Uchiha Madara, for example. A B-rank Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation, he somehow pushed to the level of an A-rank, nearly S-rank forbidden technique. It took nearly twenty Allied Shinobi Forces members combining Water Release: Water Formation Wall just to barely block it.
One Madara's fire release equaled an entire squad's water release.
Kyle extinguished the glow at his wand tip. "Give it a try yourself."
Hermione eagerly drew her own wand and attempted to light a Wand-Lighting Charm. "Lumos."
Her attempt failed. The faint glow at her wand tip was barely different from before.
Unconvinced, Hermione tried several more times, but each ended in failure.
She worked hard to stir her emotions, her face twisting from the effort.
Just as the little beaver was fretting, the closed compartment sliding door rattled open with a whoosh.
Outside the door, a girl with flushed cheeks and two golden braids looked awkward. "Sorry, all the other compartments are full. May I…?"
Seeing Hermione holding her wand with a twisted expression, as if she wanted to murder the boy across from her, the girl froze. "May… I… come… in…?"
"Of course." In a single second, Hermione regained her poised demeanor and quickly cleared the textbooks piled on the seat.
The girl thanked her and sat beside Hermione. When she caught sight of Kyle's handsome face, she froze again.
Snapping out of it, she shyly introduced herself. "I'm Hannah Abbott."
"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger."
Kyle put away his wand. "Kyle Dumbledore."
Then came the predictable reaction.
Accompanied by the clack-clack of the train, it rolled steadily along the long tracks, houses flashing past the window.
Under the golden-braided girl's gaze, Kyle, who had been quietly flipping through Transfiguration Today magazine, felt somewhat uneasy.
That look—it was as if he were some rare, exotic beast.
Kyle proactively closed the magazine and looked up at the girl. "Something on your mind?"
Hannah's already flushed face turned even redder. She awkwardly looked away. "No, no."
Could she admit she just thought Kyle was handsome, and those mismatched eyes—one deep, one light—had a unique, captivating charm she wanted to stare at a little longer?
Hermione, who had barely managed to make her Wand-Lighting Charm slightly brighter, lowered her wand.
"By the way, do you know which house you'll be sorted into? I hope it's Gryffindor. I hear Dumbledore himself graduated from there."
As she said this, Hermione glanced at Kyle across from her.
"If nothing unexpected happens, I'll probably go to Hufflepuff. My whole family's been Hufflepuff."
Hannah didn't seem to care much about the Sorting outcome.
But if possible, she'd like to be in the same house as Kyle.
No particular reason… he was just… really good-looking!
Kyle leaned lazily against the seat. "As long as it's not Slytherin, anywhere's fine."
Last term, he'd visited the Slytherin common room—or dungeon, more accurately.
It wasn't as damp as he'd imagined; in fact, it was quite dry.
Still, Kyle figured if he had to spend seven years there, his chances of developing rheumatism would be far higher than in the other three houses.
After the initial awkwardness, the three began chatting.
Time passed quickly. Around half past twelve, a loud clattering echoed down the corridor.
A smiling woman with dimples pushed open the compartment door. "Dearies, would you like to buy any snacks from the trolley?"
"Two Liquorice Wands, one pumpkin pasty, and a pack of Chocolate Frogs, please."
Hannah patted her pocket, looking slightly embarrassed. "Uh… skip the Chocolate Frogs."
The rich kid beside her handed over a few Galleons. "A bit of everything, three portions."
"No need for so much." The trolley witch's smile widened, taking only two Galleons.
Kyle dumped the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, Liquorice Wands, and other odd snacks from his lap onto the empty seat beside him.
"Come on, dig in," Kyle said to the two girls in the compartment. "I can't finish all this alone."
"That's too much," Hermione said, but she went to her trunk and pulled out some snacks the Grangers had packed for her to share with classmates.
Only Hannah hadn't prepared anything to share, staring conflictedly at the pile of snacks beside Kyle—especially the few packs of Chocolate Frogs on top.
Her biggest hobby was collecting the cards that came with Chocolate Frogs.
Kyle directly shoved a pack of Chocolate Frogs into Hannah's hands.
"No need to be polite with me. Headmaster Dumbledore's loaded, and his money's basically mine, so don't hold back."
He wasn't wrong. Though he only carried a tiny fraction of Dumbledore's genes, the Dumbledore family had only one young heir—him. The future inheritance would inevitably fall to him.
The two girls laughed at Kyle's bandit logic.
Hannah stopped refusing and opened the Chocolate Frog box.
The moment the box opened, the long-imprisoned Chocolate Frog eagerly leapt out.
But before it could escape, a pale little hand swiftly and accurately pinched it.
Crunch.
The decapitated Chocolate Frog stopped jumping, pinched in Hannah's hand, its hind legs twitching weakly a few times before going still.
The scene made Kyle's eyelids twitch.
Even though he knew it was made of chocolate, its lifelike design and movements—so indistinguishable from a real frog—were still hard for him to stomach.
Which genius designed this thing?
Couldn't they have made it some other animal?
Did it have to be a frog?
Kyle was half-tempted to stand up and recite: The mountain may not be high, but with a frog it's a war crime…
Ahem!
At that moment, the compartment door was knocked on.
A round-faced, chubby boy stood in the doorway, tear tracks on his face, sniffling. "Sorry, I was wondering if you've seen my…"
The boy's teary, blurry gaze locked precisely onto the half-eaten Chocolate Frog in Hannah's hand. His expression gradually turned to horror.
"My Trevor!" the little boy wailed.
Seeing the situation spiraling, Hannah thrust the Chocolate Frog toward him. "It's just a Chocolate Frog!"
"Huh?!" The boy's crying stopped abruptly.
Kyle facepalmed in exasperation. What was I thinking? Who'd be crazy enough to eat a live toad?
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