"Ugh, I'm sweating bullets. Lynn, I need a shower—stat. I'm nasty."
Harley's yanking Lynn's arm down the train hallway like a clingy toddler. She's full-on girl mode now—whining like she was born with it.
"You treating my tent like your personal Airbnb?"
Lynn flicks her forehead. She sticks out her tongue, then rubs her sweaty-ass bangs on his shirt. Gross.
"Now you gotta wash, right?!"
He's half-laughing, half-dying. "I never said no."
"Y'all are tight. Childhood besties?"
Cho's low-key jealous—she never had a ride-or-die.
"Nah, met Harley like two months ago. Just click."
"Yup," Harley nods. "I'm into girls. Like Cho—hot and sweet."
She's chill now. Turns out vibing with girls is easy—way less awkward than she thought.
"I'm into you too, Harley." Cho loops an arm through hers. "You fly like a damn fairy—fast, nimble. Next year, try out for Quidditch. Ravenclaw? We'd slay together."
"Bet!" Harley grins, then wilts. "But… Ravenclaw's for geniuses. I'm kinda… mid at school."
"Lynn memorizes books in one read. I stare at 'em like hieroglyphs."
"One read?" Cho gawks at Lynn. He shrugs. She pats her chest. "Don't compare to this freak. Even Ravenclaws can't do that."
Harley blinks. Wait, I'm not the dumb one?
They're back at the compartment. Lynn said the snack cart already passed, so they hit the back cars. Grabbed a haul of junk food.
But when they slide the door open—someone's in their empty-ass seats. Luggage still there, but dude's squatting.
Red hair, freckles like a connect-the-dots, nose smudged with mystery grime. Two half-eaten meat-stuffed sandwiches in each fist. As they walk in, he shoves the last chunk in his mouth like a savage.
COUGH-COUGH—GULP.
He pounds his chest, choking it down. Sees two cute girls—face goes lobster red.
"We stepped out," Cho says, chill. "No biggie—three of us, plenty of seats."
"S-sorry… thanks…"
Redhead's about to bolt when—
"AHHHHH!!!"
Cho screams. A crusty, matted rat is perched on the table, scarfing the last of her coconut milk pudding. Just a plate of crumbs.
Cho launches at Lynn, climbing him like a tree.
Harley? Unfazed. Cupboard life = spider roommates and rat ASMR at night.
"I-I thought no one was here… left it out…"
Ron's stammering, face nuclear. He yanks the rat (still munching) and stuffs it in his pocket. Grabs his trunk—bolts.
"What a dick!" Harley glares at his fleeing ass.
"Misunderstanding. Let it slide." Lynn shrugs. Ron's a hot mess—dude once suggested driving to Hogwarts. Idiot.
"You that scared of rats?" Lynn pats Cho's back.
"Not—ugh," she whines into his shoulder. "I've dissected 'em in class. But that thing was filthy. And it was shitting while eating my pudding!"
"Throw this out!"
She's near tears. Lynn telekinetically yeets the ruined box out the window. Opens it—Hedwig and Sieg swoop in.
"Scourgify!"
Cho sniffles, waves her wand—compartment sparkles. Still side-eyes the table.
"We're sitting with you, Lynn."
She glares at Ron's old spot. Not him—his rat.
"Plenty of room." Lynn locks the door, yanks the blinds.
"Wanna shower? Mood reset?"
He pulls his magic tent from the bag—fits perfect on the opposite bench.
"Camping tent? Dad takes me sometimes." Cho perks up. Wizard tents = Tardis vibes.
They pile in. Empty at first—Harley hits a button. Poof—full decor. Cho's eyes light up.
"This bathroom's huge! Hot spring?!"
She's already splashing the water. Then—shower starts.
"I'm right here, Harley."
Lynn's deadpan. "You're a girl."
"Forgot…" Harley peeks out, sheepish. "Next time."
"Hope there's no next time…" Lynn rubs his temples.
"Y'all always like this?" Cho's blushing but giggling. Lynn's not creepy—those black eyes are clean.
"She doesn't see me as… human."
Cho cackles. "Not even a guy—straight-up NPC."
"Help me out, Cho?" Lynn asks before dipping.
"Teach Harley how to girl. She's a disaster."
"I'll try." Cho's dying.
Lynn waits an hour and a half. Girls finally emerge—fresh, glowing, besties. Harley's face is steamed-lobster red.
"Starving."
They raid snacks, but rat table = nope.
"Eat inside?" Cho points at tent.
"Genius."
"Lynn, shower—now. We're dying."
"I'm not sweaty—"
"You're wind-dried."
"Fine, two minutes."
Guy showers = speedrun. Harley used to be five minutes flat. Now? Spa day.
Tent's still steamy, girly shampoo scent lingering. Lynn scrubs, flips the room to living room mode, pokes his head out.
"Food's ready!"
Cho shares her mom's bento— food Lynn's been craving. England's got nothing on this. Magical boxes keep it hot. Small portions, but with cart pies and candy? Stuffed.
Way comfier than train seats. Soft carpet, sprawl city.
"So cozy… nap time…"
Harley stretches, eyes drooping. Tent's in transparent mode—sun beams in, warm and sleepy.
"Bedroom mode?"
"Carpet's fine…" She flips, already half-gone.
Tent goes quiet. Just the choo-choo and three kids zoned out.