The Train Journey

Harry was startled, and his face instantly turned red.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He looked so embarrassed he was practically steaming, and Eliana's wary gaze only made him more flustered. "I mean, you're really good at spells... I'm sorry, I honestly didn't mean it!"

He stumbled over his words as he tried to explain. "I don't have parents either... They died when I was a baby. They say Voldemort killed them..."

Harry could hardly believe that his near-orphan status had actually made him feel a little less guilty.

He glanced cautiously at the girl opposite him. She looked Asian, with hair like black silk and skin as luminous as the Chinese porcelain Aunt Petunia collected. Her face was tense, but she was undeniably pretty.

His face turned even redder.

Fortunately, he saw Eliana's tightly pressed lips relax, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Eliana decided he meant no harm, and he sounded like he had been through a lot himself. She comforted him in turn. "It's all right. You haven't had it easy either. At least you know your enemy's name, though, right? Study hard at Hogwarts, then kill Voldemort and avenge your parents."

"Excuse me, can I sit here—ah!!!"

A shriek like a turkey's came from the open doorway, making both people in the compartment turn at once.

Eliana was baffled. "Just sit down. You don't have to pay your fare by volume."

The red-haired boy stared at her in shock. "You actually said that person's name. And you said you'd kill him."

"You're brave!" He turned toward Harry as though seeking someone who shared his opinion of her. Then his eyes landed on Harry's forehead, and he shrieked again.

Eliana wrinkled her nose in distaste. Had she imagined the Wizarding World as something grander than it was? Why did every kid her age she met seem to be missing a screw? One stammered, and the other jumped at everything.

"Harry Potter! You're Harry Potter, aren't you? I'm Ron," the shrieking turkey said excitedly.

One excited Ron was worth a hundred quacking ducks. After a long bout of chatter, Eliana finally got a rough idea of what had happened.

In short, more than ten years ago, a terrorist group had burned, killed, and looted its way through every kind of atrocity. But newborn Harry had defeated its leader, and the group had fallen silent. Peace had returned to the Wizarding World, and Harry had become a hero.

"No wonder I didn't remember something everyone knows about. I've memorized the history textbook several times, but History of Magic only covers the Wizarding World before the nineteenth century. Voldemort probably hadn't even been born then."

Eliana breathed a sigh of relief. She had thought there was a gap in her studies. Luckily, she simply hadn't reached contemporary history yet.

"You've memorized the textbooks several times too?"

Ron and Harry cried out together, like two little ducks in perfect sync.

"Mm-hm? Isn't reading the textbooks ahead of time perfectly normal?" Eliana looked up at the two openmouthed boys, unable to understand their surprise.

"I bet kids born into wizarding families have been reading their parents' textbooks for years. They've probably memorized them backward by now!"

As she spoke, she grew anxious again.

Ron, who came from a wizarding family, didn't dare make a sound.

After a long pause, he said weakly, "N-not necessarily."

"You've memorized all the textbooks too?" The compartment door slid open again, and a bushy-haired little girl stood there, excited. "So have I!"

Eliana shot Ron an I told you so look, then turned eagerly to the little girl.

The girl's eyes shone with competitive fire. "I've tried a few simple spells, too, and they all worked."

She turned toward Harry, whose glasses had slipped sideways when he wiped his brow, and drew her wand. "Reparo!"

A flash of light passed over Harry's glasses. The pair that had been held together with tape looked brand-new.

He had yet to react. His face still wore the same startled expression it had when she pointed her wand at him: O .O

"!"

Eliana sat bolt upright, her competitive spirit flaring too. "I've tried a few spells that worked pretty well."

She took out her lunch box. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The lunch box floated gently upward. With another flick of her wand, blue flames sprang from its tip and licked the bottom of the aluminum box. Before long, a savory aroma drifted from it.

"Would anyone like some?"

She generously opened the lid. Inside was a bowl filled to the brim with chicken in broth.

Yes, it was the unlucky rooster that had mistaken the light from her spell for dawn and crowed. Mrs. Brown had declared it "too old and half-blind to be of any use" and made it into a farewell meal for Eliana.

"No, thanks." Ron's face turned red. "My mum made me sandwiches."

"I need to help Neville find his toad," the little girl said, declining too. She turned to Eliana. "I'm Hermione Granger. What's your name?"

"I'm Eliana Ritchie. It's nice to meet you."

Hermione nodded. "You too. Maybe we can study together once we get to school."

"They're kind of scary, aren't they?" Ron nudged Harry with his elbow.

While the two girls enthusiastically showed off what they had learned, the boys couldn't get a word in. Somehow, that brought them closer.

Harry wasn't feeling good about it. "I don't know how to do anything," he said anxiously. "I bet I'll be the worst student in the class... They won't expel me, will they?"

"They probably won't expel you." Ron's face fell too. "And if you're the worst... it's all right, mate. You've got me."

The two looked at each other with newfound appreciation.

Ron suddenly turned to Eliana. "I bet you'll be in Ravenclaw."

"What?" Eliana didn't understand. She hadn't had spare money for books outside the curriculum, such as Hogwarts, A History, so she knew little about things the textbooks didn't cover.

Delighted to have found something she didn't know, Ron perked up. "Hogwarts sorts students into four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Ravenclaw students are known for being clever."

"That sounds good. I like that house." Eliana changed tack. "Which of the four is best?"

"Well, everyone says Gryffindor is the best. Do you know Albus Dumbledore?"

Eliana nodded. "The admission letter listed him: Hogwarts Headmaster, Order of Merlin, First Class, president of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

Ron faltered. "Uh, yes. The greatest wizard of all time. He was in Gryffindor."

Eliana lowered her eyes thoughtfully.

"I hope I get into Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw would be fine too. Anywhere but Slytherin," Ron concluded.

"What's wrong with Slytherin?"

Ron frowned. "A lot of Dark wizards come out of there."

At last, Harry found a topic he could contribute to. "It was Voldemort's house."

Ron made a noise like he was about to faint. Harry quickly apologized. "I mean, the Dark Lord."

"Then," Eliana asked, "how does the school sort us? What are the criteria?"

Ron thought for a moment. "Probably some kind of test. Fred—my brother—said it could hurt us pretty badly. The way he talked, you'd think we were going to fight a troll."

Harry felt his stomach knot. Fight? He didn't know a single spell yet! He could run fast—he had learned that dodging Dudley's attacks—but speed alone wouldn't let him fight a troll!

"No, I don't think we'll fight a troll. We're too young, and trolls aren't very bright. One could easily kill us. Maybe we'll fight something small, or each other, or a teacher... A teacher would know when to stop and wouldn't kill us."

Eliana analyzed it seriously. "I think the point would be to test our command of spells and see what personality traits we show in combat, so they can decide which house's values suit us."

"Besides, some of us come from Muggle families with no knowledge of magic. I don't think the test can be limited to fighting. There should be a written portion too, and a thirty-to-seventy split between practical and written marks would be fair. Students from wizarding families have had a ten-year head start on us with spells!"

When she put it that way, it sounded remarkably reasonable.

Harry believed her, at least.

His face went pale. He couldn't manage either a practical test or a written one. He had read History of Magic, but all he remembered was "Hedwig"—and only because he had named his owl after that person.

"No, Eliana," Ron murmured. "Believe me, plenty of kids from wizarding families don't know how to do anything either."

Eliana had already opened Magical Theory and begun revising.

Harry frantically dug History of Magic out of his trunk.

Ron hurriedly unearthed Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration too.

The compartment suddenly became a study room. All three read anxiously. They weren't even in the mood to pay attention when Malfoy, glittering like a golden lightbulb, came by to provoke them.

As the golden lightbulb chattered on, mocking the Weasley family, Eliana cut him off impatiently. "So your family is a very powerful wizarding family?"

"Of course." Malfoy straightened his tie haughtily.

"Your family has a long history?" Eliana pressed.

Malfoy puffed out his chest even farther. "Of course!"

"What do you get if you add Asphodel roots powder to Infusion of Wormwood?" Eliana asked without warning.

"What?" Malfoy froze, but Eliana's next question came at him like a barrage.

"Then what year was the Code of Conduct for Werewolves issued?"

"Huh?"

"Can you transform an object? How much can you change it?"

"..."

Eliana looked at the stammering Draco and the two big lugs behind him, who had gone blank. "I see family background isn't everything."

"You've had such a good learning environment!" she said, exasperated by how little he had done with it.

"You think you're so clever, do you?" Humiliated and furious, Malfoy slammed the compartment door.

Eliana buried herself in her book again, looking rather pleased. "I feel more confident about the entrance exam now. There are plenty of fools around."

Harry, who had been sitting there with his neck stiff, ready to fight Malfoy at any moment: ...

He dropped back into his seat and frantically searched for the answers to her questions.

He had a feeling he was one of those fools.