Hit-and-Run by Trolley

The first few carriages were already packed with students, so Glen led Harry straight to the back of the train.

Harry was malnourished, which made it difficult for him to lift his luggage into a carriage. Fortunately, Glen was there to help, and they managed to get everything aboard in the end.

After they boarded and took their seats, Harry still seemed a little uneasy. "Is that person really all right?"

Glen didn't answer. He simply raised his chin slightly, gesturing for Harry to look out the window—at the red-haired family once more.

"This is ridiculous! Someone actually dared to attack a prefect right in front of the train to Hogwarts!" The window was half open, so the voices outside carried easily into the carriage.

A boy struggled to his feet. His hair was bright red, and so was his face—he was furious.

Harry recognized him at once. He was the boy that Glen and Harry had sent flying twice.

Not far away, the mother of the red-haired family came hurrying over with four children of various ages.

"Oh! Percy, are you all right?" Their mother anxiously circled him, trying to spot any injuries.

The boy called Percy dusted off his robes. For some reason, he didn't feel any pain at all.

"I'm fine, Mum." Percy hesitated. "Maybe they put a spell on my badge so I wouldn't get hurt, since I'm a prefect..."

At that, Fred and George, who had already been struggling to contain their amusement, couldn't hold back any longer.

"Oh, Merlin, what's Percy talking about? Prefects don't get hurt when they're hit!"

"Then I know what got hit..."

Percy had spent every minute of the summer insisting that he was a prefect for the coming school year, but all those declarations together weren't nearly as funny as that one remark.

Even though something like this had happened, their little sister Ginny and their younger brother Ron couldn't stop themselves from grinning, either.

Their mother turned around and glared at them, but judging by the way the corners of her mouth twitched...

She was having trouble holding back, too.

"You two are impossible..."

"Thank goodness he's all right." Harry sighed with relief.

He didn't want to be responsible for killing a fellow student before he'd even started school.

"You know," Glen said, turning to him with sudden seriousness.

Harry's relief vanished, and his heart leapt into his throat again.

After all, Glen had stayed perfectly calm through both collisions just now. What could possibly be worse than nearly running someone over?

"What?" Harry asked, holding his breath.

"Does this train have a dining car?"

"..."

"Fred, can you do that again?"

"They put a spell on prefects' badges so they won't get hurt..."

The compartment's sliding door opened, and a red-haired first-year walked in, unable to suppress his grin.

There was a smudge on his nose, though he didn't seem to have noticed.

"Hi, is anyone sitting here?" He pointed to the seat beside Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry instinctively started to nod, but then thought better of it and shook his head.

He still felt somewhat guilty about nearly killing the boy's older brother.

"Uh, so is anyone sitting there or not?"

"No one," Glen replied, completely untroubled.

"Okay."

As soon as the boy sat down, his twin brother came in with a burst of cheerful laughter.

"Ron, Percy's furious!"

"He actually said Hogwarts should make a rule banning students from racing around on trolleys!"

Hearing that, Ron's mouth, which he'd just managed to stop from curling into a smile, lifted again, and he couldn't help laughing.

He only stopped when Fred and George, the twin brothers, had left.

"Sorry. I know you won't believe me, but just now, two trolleys sent one of my brothers flying. He's been accusing those two students of hit-and-run ever since."

It was a pretty good joke, at least to anyone who heard it that way.

But to Glen and Harry, it was the truth.

Just as Harry was wondering how to change the subject, Glen introduced himself. "Glen Howard."

Then he pointed to Harry across from him. "Harry Potter."

"Ron Weasley," Ron said automatically, but he quickly realized what Glen had just said.

"What?! You're Harry Potter?" Ron whipped around and blurted out.

Since the subject had changed, Harry was glad to go along with it. He nodded and brushed aside a lock of hair on his forehead, revealing his lightning-shaped scar.

The sudden revelation was like a character from a book stepping into the real world. Ron's eyes widened, and for a moment he couldn't speak.

"Voldemort did that?" Glen asked, staring at the scar.

"Yes," Harry said, "but I don't remember."

"You don't remember anything?"

"Um...I only remember lots of green light. I don't remember anything else."

"Well, that's not surprising. Voldemort was a dark wizard, after all. It makes sense he'd use plenty of colorful spells." Glen sounded completely unconcerned.

Honestly, Harry found that a little surprising.

People like Hagrid, or any number of other wizards, would shudder as soon as they heard him say "Voldemort."

It did make Voldemort seem terrifying, true, but after hearing it so many times, anyone who didn't know much about him would still start to find it a little irritating.

Before Harry could continue talking about Voldemort, Ron interrupted him.

"...H-Harry, if you don't mind, maybe we should call him 'You-Know-Who' instead."

Looking over at the speaker, Harry saw that the repeated mentions of "Voldemort" had left the Weasley gasping for breath.

For a young wizard born and raised in the Wizarding World, Voldemort was practically the very embodiment of terror.

A conversation crammed with several mentions of Voldemort in just a few lines was even more horrifying.

"All right," Harry said regretfully.

"But I don't say his name because I'm brave or anything. I've just never known I wasn't supposed to say it. Do you see what I mean? I'm sure there's a lot I need to learn...I bet I'll be the worst student in the class." He sounded worried, and it was clear he'd been fretting about it for quite some time.

"Don't worry. Lots of students come from Muggle families, and they learn quickly, too. Besides, you're the one person with the most right to say his name. I'm just not brave enough to hear it." Ron tried to reassure him.

But in the next moment, both of them turned to look at Glen almost at the same time.

"I lived in Muggle society for a long time, too." Glen shook his head.

"But I think the main reason is that Voldemort wasn't around when I was born."

Their conversation continued, but the train had already left London behind and was speeding across fields dotted with sheep and cattle.

At around half past twelve, a loud clattering noise came from the corridor. A smiling woman with dimples opened the compartment door and asked, "Would you like to buy anything from the trolley, dears?"

Harry hadn't eaten anything that morning, so he jumped up at once, about to say something.

But Glen asked first, "Do you have scrambled eggs with tomatoes?"

"Um, sorry, sir, I've never heard of that. Perhaps you'd like some Every-Flavour Beans, Super Bouncy Bubble Gum, Chocolate Frogs..." The woman listed the things for sale on the trolley, still smiling despite her confusion.

In its place, Glen's expression gradually grew more solemn.

Having recently completed a trip around the world and returned from the homeland of Biting Cabbage, he had to admit one thing.

This was Britain.

A country where the best restaurants served French food.