At precisely eleven o'clock, the Hogwarts Express gave a sharp, echoing whistle, and the platform beyond the window began to drift backward.
The world outside blurred into motion—families waving their final goodbyes, hats and handkerchiefs fluttering like white birds in the distance.
Then came the familiar rhythm of the train: the steady clack of wheels meeting track, the hum of enchantments woven into the steel itself.
For most, it was a moment of excitement.
For Cassius Snape, it was the first controlled environment of his new game.
Inside their compartment, the soft chatter of three other voices filled the quiet hum.
Neville had relaxed somewhat now that the train was moving, Hermione had buried herself in a thick tome—Hogwarts, A History—and Daphne sat diagonally from Cassius, her chin resting on her palm, studying him with open interest.
But the peace didn't last long.
A wet plop hit the floor, followed by a startled yelp.
"Trevor!" Neville's cry broke the calm as his golden-backed toad landed squarely between Daphne's polished shoes before hopping for the door.
"Oh for Merlin's sake—" Daphne muttered, jerking her feet up.
Hermione squealed more out of surprise than fear, the heavy book sliding from her lap with a thud.
"Neville! How did he get out again?"
"I—I don't know!" Neville stammered, lunging forward, but the toad was far too quick.
It bounded under the seat, then up again, somehow finding its way into the tiny air vent near the luggage racks.
Cassius, who had watched the scene unfold with lazy amusement, finally sighed.
"Relax, Longbottom. He's not going far."
Neville froze mid-step.
"But—but Trevor always escapes! Gran says I—"
"Gran," Cassius interrupted smoothly, "didn't raise a fool, did she?"
Neville blinked, mouth opening and closing.
"N-no?"
"Then take a deep breath," Cassius said, standing and brushing invisible dust from his robes. "And watch."
He lifted his right hand, still keeping his wand holstered at his thigh.
His movements were precise, the air shifting subtly around him as the faintest tingle of magic hummed through the compartment.
"Accio Trevor."
There was a sharp pop of displaced air, followed by a blur of motion as the golden toad zipped from the luggage rack like a bullet, landing neatly in Cassius's open palm.
Trevor croaked indignantly.
The room went silent.
Hermione's mouth fell open.
"You—you did that without even drawing your wand!"
Neville stared, awestruck.
"That's… I didn't think first-years could even—"
"Most can't," Daphne said softly, her voice carrying quiet admiration. "Not without at least a vocal incantation, and even then not until their fifth year."
Cassius merely smiled, placing Trevor gently back into Neville's shaking hands.
"It's all about understanding intent. Magic responds best to clarity of purpose, not volume of voice."
Hermione's quill was already out, scribbling notes in the margin of her book. "But—but that shouldn't be possible! At least, not safely!"
"Safety," Cassius said mildly, sitting back down, "is relative."
Daphne's eyes glinted. "And you're dangerous, aren't you?"
Cassius tilted his head, the faintest smirk ghosting his lips. "Only if someone makes me so."
The tension dissolved quickly enough when Hermione—ever the eager conversationalist—cleared her throat and turned her book around for the others to see.
"Have any of you read Hogwarts, A History?" she asked brightly, eyes shining. "It's absolutely fascinating! Did you know the castle's foundations predate even the Statute of Secrecy? And there are over a hundred secret passages—"
"No," Daphne interrupted smoothly, "and I'd rather find them than read about them."
Hermione frowned. "That's not the point—"
Cassius raised a hand slightly, smiling.
"It is interesting though. Especially the part about the Sorting Hat."
At that, Neville perked up.
"Yeah! Gran told me it sorts you into houses, but I don't really know how it works. Does it just… decide?"
Hermione adjusted her posture, eager to explain. "There plenty of legends about the ceremony, from fighting dragons, and trolls, to solving near impossible puzzles! If it's really as tough as they say, im surprised how many manage to pass and become proper students!"
"Hehe, sorry to burst your bubble, but thats not the cermony, instead its almost worse than that."
Cassius began drawing the eyes of the other three.
'Worse than fighting a dragon?'
"You'll have your true self ready publicly by the sorting hat in front of everyone, exposing a side of yourself you might not even be aware."
"It reads your mind?" Neville echoed, paling. "What if it doesn't like what it sees?"
"Then it laughs and tosses you off the stage," Daphne said dryly.
Hermione gasped. "That's not funny!"
"Depends who it happens to," Daphne countered with a sly smile.
Cassius chuckled softly.
"The truth is somewhere between the two. The Hat doesn't judge—it just sees. Think of it as a reflection, not a sentence, and its not possible to fail, well except leaving to your assigned house without returning the hat first."
Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "Still, I suppose it must be terrifying."
"Only if you have something to hide," Daphne murmured.
That earned her a sharp glance from Cassius, though his tone remained light. "Then Hogwarts should be full of terrified students."
The group laughed, tension breaking.
It wasn't long before conversation drifted naturally to the houses themselves.
Hermione, of course, had the definitions memorized. "Gryffindor for bravery, Hufflepuff for loyalty, Ravenclaw for wit, and Slytherin for ambition."
"Ambition?" Neville repeated, uncertainty flickering in his tone. "Gran says that's where all the bad ones come from."
Daphne's head snapped toward him, eyes flashing. "Excuse me?"
"I—I didn't mean—"
"Not all Slytherins are bad," Cassius interjected before the argument could flare. "Just as not all Gryffindors are good. History has plenty of examples."
Hermione nodded slowly. "Like Merlin—he was a Slytherin."
"Exactly," Cassius said. "And Voldemort was one too."
Neville flinched at the name.
Cassius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Good and evil aren't dictated by your house. They're dictated by what you do with what you're given. Every founder built their house around an ideal—none of them intended to breed enemies."
Hermione's expression softened. "I suppose… that makes sense."
Daphne regarded him curiously. "You sound like you've been thinking about this for a while."
Cassius shrugged. "Perspective helps when you're walking into a castle full of strangers."
Hermione smiled faintly. "Well, if I'm sorted anywhere, it'll probably be Ravenclaw. I like to learn things properly."
Neville glanced down. "I'd like to be in Gryffindor, like my parents."
"Why?" Cassius asked gently.
Neville blinked. "Because they were brave. Heroes."
Cassius's voice softened. "And yet, you're here worrying about disappointing them."
Neville looked away, cheeks reddening.
"That's loyalty," Cassius said simply. "Not bravery. The fact that you care so much about honoring them—that's what makes you more of a Hufflepuff than you think. And that's nothing to be ashamed of."
Neville looked up, surprised. "You really think they'd be proud of that?"
Cassius smiled faintly. "Absolutely."
Hermione's expression warmed.
Daphne's softened too, though only slightly.
"And what about you?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Where do you think you'll be sorted?"
Cassius paused, eyes drifting toward the countryside passing by outside.
"I think," he said at last, "that fate has a sense of humor. So I'll let it decide. I could fit anywhere, really—depends what the Hat sees first."
There was a quiet respect in the silence that followed.
Even Daphne, proud Slytherin that she was, seemed to consider him differently now—not as an upstart, but as an equal.
The moment was broken by a sudden knock-knock on the compartment door.
A cheerful voice followed. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"
The door slid open, revealing the kindly witch with her cart piled high with sweets—Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Pumpkin Pasties, and an assortment of shimmering confections that glittered faintly with enchantment.
Neville's eyes went wide. "Blimey…"
Daphne stood immediately, inspecting the stock with the cool decisiveness of someone used to getting what she wanted.
Hermione, however, hesitated.
"Oh, I—I probably shouldn't," she said quickly. "My parents are dentists. They'd be horrified if they saw this much sugar."
Cassius leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You do realize wizarding sweets aren't made with sugar, right? Made with magic instead, afterall i've yet to see a single witch or wizard with bad teeth, or even acne for that matter."
Hermione froze.
"They… don't rot your teeth?"
Cassius smiled.
"Only your self-control."
Hermione blinked, then—grinning for the first time—snatched up a Chocolate Frog.
Minutes later, their compartment was filled with laughter, the soft rustle of wrappers, and the scent of pumpkin and cocoa.
The four of them had bought the lot, quickly filling their laps with plenty of sweet treats more than they could probably eat on this eight hour ride, but even still it wasnt like they couldnt just keep them to snack on at school.
As the train carried them northward, past fields and forests and unseen wards shimmering against the horizon, Cassius sat back and let the laughter wash over him.
staring down at the card in front of him, Neville drew Albus Dumbledore, Daphne got Bathilda Bagshot, Hermione Mugo Bonham, and he well... he got Merwyn the malicious, recorded as a medieval witch accredited with the creation of more than a fair share of unpleasant hexes and jinxes many still in use today.