Damian smiled. "Is he very special?"
Jerry's face fell flat. "Very ordinary, actually. If I hadn't heard the Weasley twins talking about him, I wouldn't have even realized he was Harry Potter. He doesn't look like a Savior at all."
"But you know, he's the one who defeated..." Jerry lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "...defeated You-Know-Who!"
"Perhaps that was his parents' achievement." Damian pulled a wrapped sandwich out of his pocket. "Want one? I brought extra."
Jerry took the sandwich, looking genuinely surprised. "That's the first time I've ever heard someone view it that way."
Damian unwrapped his own sandwich and took a bite. "The night You-Know-Who disappeared, his parents were right there. The Potters were killed by the Dark Lord that very same night."
Jerry leaned forward, growing excited as if he had just unearthed a grand conspiracy. "You-Know-Who vanished immediately after. Now that you mention it, it is entirely possible that the Potters and You-Know-Who simply took each other out! That makes way more sense than a literal newborn baby defeating a Dark Lord."
He paused, chewing thoughtfully. "But then... why does everyone think Harry Potter is the Savior?"
"Who knows?" Damian shrugged. "Perhaps the wizarding world was just so desperate at the time that they needed a living symbol. A Savior."
In truth, Damian didn't remember the exact details. In his past life, he had only watched two of the movies, gleaning the rest of his lore from random internet forums.
When he had first transmigrated into this world, Lord Voldemort was still at the height of his power. But Damian had been far too young to have any chance of participating in the First Wizarding War.
Just then, the compartment door slid open. A small witch with bushy brown hair grasped the handle and peered inside, her eyes scanning the floor.
"Have either of you seen a toad?" she asked briskly. She gestured to a trembling, round-faced boy standing behind her in the corridor. "Neville's lost his."
Damian and Jerry both shook their heads.
Seeing Neville's devastated expression—he looked like he was about to burst into tears at any second—Damian offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. A familiar usually finds its way back to its master eventually."
The little witch sighed in disappointment. "Sorry to bother you."
She turned to continue down the train, but before she could slide the door shut, a sleek dark shadow darted right between her legs.
The shadow leaped onto the bench and dove straight into Damian's lap.
The bushy-haired girl gasped, her eyes lighting up. It was a stunning black Kneazle-mix with brilliant, sapphire-blue eyes.
"Preserved Egg, what do you have in your mouth?" Damian suddenly felt a terrible premonition. He could clearly see the webbed leg of a large amphibian dangling from the corner of the cat's jaws.
Preserved Egg purred, rubbing his sleek back against Damian's chest before casually dropping his prize onto the small wooden table.
It was a large toad.
Neville stared at the amphibian lying belly-up and perfectly motionless on the wood. The boy's face underwent a catastrophic series of changes.
Damian watched in fascination as Neville's expression morphed from profound grief, to utter blankness, to sheer shock, then to rage, and finally right back to grief—all within the span of three seconds.
If someone had recorded that emotional rollercoaster and posted it online in Damian's previous life, it would have been hailed as an absolute masterclass in acting.
Damian hurriedly reached out to check the "corpse."
The moment his fingers brushed its warty skin, the toad abruptly stopped playing dead. It flipped over and started vigorously kicking its legs. A quick inspection revealed absolutely no external injuries.
"Preserved Egg didn't even break the skin," Damian said, breathing a sigh of relief. Thank Merlin his Kneazle was smart enough not to actually eat the other students' familiars.
"Like I said, a pet will always return to its master's side." He handed the squirming toad over to Neville with an amused smile. "Though, admittedly, the method of delivery can sometimes be a bit unexpected."
Seeing that his beloved Trevor was alive and well, Neville's tears instantly vanished, replaced by a wobbly smile. He hugged the toad to his chest, stammering out, "T-thank you, thank you so much!"
The bushy-haired witch also breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She had been terrified that the beautiful black cat had murdered the boy's pet right in front of them.
Stepping fully into the compartment, she leaned over the table to admire the feline.
"Did you call him Preserved Egg? His eyes are absolutely gorgeous." She hesitated for a second before adding, "His coat looks incredibly soft, too."
"You can pet him. He won't bite," Damian offered, easily reading the girl's intent.
Looking delighted, the young witch eagerly reached out and stroked the sleek fur along the Kneazle's spine.
Preserved Egg merely gave her a haughty, sidelong glance before laying down comfortably and beginning to groom his front paw, accepting the tribute.
After petting the cat for a moment, the girl suddenly seemed to realize she had completely forgotten her manners. She straightened up and puffed out her chest slightly. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I'm a first-year."
Just as I suspected, Damian thought. The bushy-haired girl was none other than the "Savior's" future best friend.
"I'm Damian Black. And this is Jerry Abbott," Damian replied politely, gesturing across the compartment. "We're both third-years in Slytherin House."
Jerry offered an awkward wave and a tight smile. Despite being a chatterbox around Damian, the boy was actually deeply socially anxious and tended to clam up around strangers.
Neville had just relaxed against the doorframe, but the moment he heard the word Slytherin, he flinched so hard he nearly dropped Trevor again. "S-Slytherin?!"
Damian suppressed a laugh. "Neville, please, relax."
Neville clutched his toad like a shield, glancing between Damian and Jerry with wide, terrified eyes. "M-my Gran always says that Slytherin is the house that turns out the most Dark Wizards..."
Damian smirked, glancing over at his roommate. "Our reputation truly precedes us, Jerry."
Jerry just rolled his eyes, refusing to be drawn into it.
Turning back to the wide-eyed first-years, Damian offered a calm, rational smile. "Actually, Gryffindor produces just as many Dark Wizards as Slytherin. In fact, if we're looking strictly at modern statistics, Slytherin currently produces the fewest Dark Wizards of any house."
Seeing Hermione's deeply skeptical and confused expression, Damian decided to elaborate.
"It's been a decade of peace since You-Know-Who fell. The wizarding population has grown significantly. Yet, out of all the Hogwarts graduates each year, less than one-tenth can secure a position at the Ministry of Magic. The same goes for the private sector—not everyone finds a job after they finish school."
He leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests. "During times of peace, the demographic most likely to turn to dark magic and crime are the desperate and the unemployed. But most Slytherin students belong to old, established pure-blood families."
Damian gave them a knowing look. "Thanks to their wealth and connections, finding a comfortable job is infinitely easier for them than it is for Muggle-born witches and wizards."
For Hermione, this pragmatic, economic breakdown hit like a bolt of lightning. She hadn't even started her first class, and she had never once considered the brutal reality of the wizarding job market.
She immediately began to fret, wondering if she'd be forced to go back to the Muggle world to inherit her parents' dental practice if she couldn't find magical employment.
Neville, however, stubbornly held his ground. "But Gran said almost all of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters came from Slytherin!"
"And You-Know-Who has fallen," Damian countered smoothly. "The Death Eaters are either dead, or they're rotting away in Azkaban."
Damian gave Neville a highly meaningful, calculating look. "And those who managed to avoid Azkaban are, legally speaking, upstanding citizens. Not Dark Wizards."
Neville's round face quickly flushed red. He desperately wanted to argue the blatant hypocrisy of that statement, but he didn't even know where to begin against such twisted Slytherin logic.
Hermione, thoroughly derailed from the topic of good versus evil, latched onto the academic anxiety.
"How exactly are the houses sorted, then? Are there differences in the curriculum? Does the quality of education vary by house? Will being in a certain house affect my future job prospects?!" The anxious first-year fired off the questions like a machine gun.
"There is a highly rigorous test during the Sorting Ceremony," Damian lied smoothly, playing the part of the mysterious, intimidating upperclassman perfectly. "As for the rest... well, you'll just have to find out after you pass."
"There's an entrance test?!" Hermione shrieked, her anxiety instantly skyrocketing.
Every 100 stones = 1 EXTRA CHAPTER