The Hogwarts Express

The taxi dropped Skofot off at King's Cross Station.

He carried his suitcase and owl cage, blending into the crowd, easily finding the seemingly ordinary wall between Platforms Nine and Ten.

Recalling Professor McGonagall's instructions, he didn't hesitate, pushing his luggage cart, quickening his pace, and charging straight at the wall—

After a brief sensation of pressure, the clamor shifted abruptly.

A deep scarlet steam locomotive stood beside a platform packed with travelers, a sign on the train reading: Hogwarts Express.

The steam engine's smoke curled above the chattering crowd, various owls hooting in their cages, cats weaving under people's feet.

Skofot took a deep breath of air tinged with coal smoke and magic, merged into the flow, and boarded the train.

He began walking down the corridor, searching for an empty compartment, but his mind wasn't fully on it.

He asked in his thoughts: "System, which carriage is Harry Potter in?"

The system panel floated quietly, offering no response.

"...Useless." Skofot grumbled inwardly, resorting to the most primitive method—

peeking into compartments one by one.

He softened his steps, pretending to look for a seat, his gaze quickly sweeping past each compartment's glass window.

Most compartments were filled with excitedly chatting first-years or older students.

Finally, in a compartment near the middle-rear of the train, he spotted a black-haired boy with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, wearing shabby round glasses, sitting alone, looking a bit awkwardly out the window.

Found him.

At the same time, he noticed a line of small text on the system panel:

[Next Card Draw Cooldown: 0 days 0 hours 0 minutes 0 seconds]

The cooldown was over.

But he didn't plan to draw a card for now; the effect of the [Rabbit Rhymer] card seemed just right for this first-meeting scenario.

He adjusted his expression, letting the natural "fragility" and "approachability" fully show, then gently knocked on the compartment door.

Harry Potter turned his head and saw a very thin, somewhat pale black-haired boy standing outside the door.

The boy held a few books, his eyes carrying a hint of cautious probing, looking... like someone who needed looking after (Fragility Buff active).

"Come in," Harry said instinctively, his voice friendly enough.

Skofot pulled the door open and stepped inside. "Hello, are there any other empty seats here?"

His voice wasn't loud, carrying just the right amount of shyness.

"No, it's just me," Harry said quickly, pointing to the empty seat across from him.

"Thanks." Skofot put his luggage away, then sat down across from Harry, placing the books beside him.

He noticed Harry's gaze linger briefly on his slightly oversized second-hand robe and thin wrists.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Harry introduced himself proactively.

"Skofot Leoqi."

Skofot nodded slightly, offering a faint, seemingly forced smile (Fragility: Putting on a Brave Face effect).

"I know you. From... some books I've read."

He explained vaguely, without showing excessive eagerness.

"Oh..." Harry looked a bit awkward, as if he didn't like being recognized.

Just then, the compartment door slid open again.

A red-haired boy with a bit of dust on his nose poked his head in and asked:

"Excuse me, are there any empty seats elsewhere? The other carriages are all full."

Harry seemed relieved and quickly said, "There's room here, it's just the two of us."

"Great." The red-haired boy stepped in and plopped down next to Harry.

He saw Harry, then glanced at the unusually quiet and thin boy across from him, as if about to say something.

"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," he said to both of them.

"Harry Potter," Harry introduced himself again.

Ron's eyes went wide instantly, stammering as he started talking about the scar and "You-Know-Who."

Skofot just sat quietly across from them, listening to their conversation, occasionally gently steadying the books beside him as the train swayed (Fragility + Approachability Buff stacking), appearing both harmless and carrying a fragile aura that made people reluctant to ignore him, even wanting to take care of him.

He didn't interrupt, only offering a faint, seemingly tired smile when they looked his way.

Just as Ron was still excitedly going on about Harry's scar and the "Dark Lord,"

and Harry looked a bit at a loss, the ever-quiet Skofot across from them suddenly lifted his head.

His eyes, rendered especially clear and even carrying a hint of fragility by the [Rabbit Rhymer] card's effect, looked toward Ron, and he spoke in a soft tone with just the right amount of surprise and curiosity:

"Weasley... as in the Weasley family, the one known for courage and loyalty in the wizarding world, hailed as the 'Gryffindor embodiment of bravery'?"

At those words, the compartment fell silent for a moment.

Ron's face flushed red at a visible rate, nearly blending in with the color of his hair.

He opened his mouth, seemingly stunned by this sudden, respectful evaluation.

He was used to being mocked by people like Malfoy as "red hair, hand-me-down robes, blood traitor,"

and used to being seen by most as part of a large, ordinary (even somewhat poor) wizarding family, but he had never heard anyone speak of his surname with such a solemn tone, linking it to words like "embodiment of bravery."

"Uh... I... well, yeah, I guess..."

Ron stammered a bit, scratching his nose, looking somewhat awkward, yet a glimmer of recognition flickered uncontrollably in his blue eyes, "I mean, my whole family was in Gryffindor..."

Harry watched this scene, temporarily freed from the awkwardness about his scar, and looked curiously at Skofot, then back at Ron.

Skofot maintained that harmless expression tinged with genuine envy (the Affinity Buff steadily doing its work), nodding slightly:

"It's an honor to meet you, Ron. Having such a proud family legacy must be a wonderful thing."

His tone was natural, without a hint of flattery, as if he were simply stating an obvious fact.

[Emotion Points +5]

[Emotion Points: 375/100]

This subtle emotional shift came from Ron—a complex mix of surprise, shyness, and a spark of family pride being kindled.

Ron puffed out his chest a little, though his face was still red, his voice noticeably more confident than before:

"It's really not that big a deal... There are just a lot of us kids."

But this time, his complaint carried less self-pity and more... well, perhaps a sweet burden?

Skofot didn't press the topic further, falling into a well-timed silence, turning his gaze back to the fields speeding past the window, leaving Ron room to digest this sudden "recognition" and avoiding any overdone effort.

The atmosphere in the compartment seemed to shift subtly because of this interlude.

Ron's look at Skofot had shed some of the pure wariness of a stranger, gaining a touch of initial friendliness.

And Harry, too, cast more curious glances at Skofot, who appeared frail but whose words seemed far from ordinary.