The Heart-Piercing Curse, Ready to Strike

"Or rather... long time no see. I've already tried every spell in the book, and they all worked. What about you?"

The bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl, already changed into her school robes, lifted her chin high.

"Who are you?"

The buck-toothed girl instantly dropped the act. "Hermione Granger—we met at the math competition!"

"Sorry, I have too many defeated opponents."

Harry said mildly, pointing to the spread newspaper. "Take this ass, for example. If Ron hadn't reminded me, I wouldn't even know whose it was."

"Ron? Ron Weasley! How dare you—" The platinum-haired, sharp-faced boy, Draco, slammed into Hermione and lunged at Ron.

Ron shot up and dodged, sending the fat rat Scabbers flying, who landed face-to-face with Draco.

Squeak—!

Scabbers, still half-asleep, let out a shriek as it splattered onto a silver-thread-bound notebook, leaving a trail of Scabbers sauce.

"A rat! Bleh, bleh, bleh!" Draco thrashed to get up.

"Scabbers! My notebook!" Ron snatched up both Scabbers and the notebook, staring at the cover in delight. "It even has a self-cleaning charm—what a find!"

—It wasn't a cleaning charm.

Harry silently mourned for the young Voldemort.

"Aren't you going to put me down?" Hermione fumed. She'd nearly ended up face-to-face with Harry too, her maiden heart just about to bloom, only to be hoisted up the next second like a doll and left dangling midair.

"Oh."

Harry let go, and Hermione nearly landed on her rear.

"You—" Hermione's cheeks puffed out, making her look even more like a squirrel.

"Red-haired traitor, I'm going to break your nose!"

"Evil Malfoy, your great Ron is no coward!"

Draco and Ron tumbled into a brawl.

Neville shrank into a corner, clutching his toad Trevor tightly.

The startled Scabbers got to keep releasing Scabbers sauce onto the diary, which absorbed it so fast that the stench didn't even have time to spread.

Harry took an imperceptible step back.

Hermione nodded approvingly, looking every bit the little teacher. "At least you didn't punch anyone this time, unlike those two—can't even reach the destination without stirring up trouble on the way."

She shot the pair a disgusted look. "Stop fighting, or I'm calling a prefect!"

"Prefect? My brother's a prefect!" "Crabbe, Goyle, beat up this bucktooth too!"

Ron and Draco were suddenly on the same side.

"You—" Hermione quickly retreated behind Harry, peeking out cautiously. "My front teeth are just a little long!"

"Goyle, did you hear something?" "Nothing." Crabbe and Goyle shot Harry a timid glance.

"You—" Now it was Draco's turn to flush red.

But his reason was slowly returning. Without his bodyguards, the taller, longer-armed Ron had the advantage.

"I'm here to deliver a challenge! To Harry Potter!"

"Flint says you have troll blood—what happened in Knockturn Alley was pure luck, a coincidence!"

The red on Draco's face transferred to Harry's, who still wore a gentle smile.

—I really do have troll strength!

"Lead the way." Harry said softly.

—Force Choke!

Draco was instantly yanked out from under Ron, as if an invisible hand had grabbed him, lifted him, and tossed him out of the compartment.

"Yes!" Draco scrambled up, but his excitement was plain to see.

—Real wandless magic! Harry Potter isn't just a troll who uses his fists!

"I'm coming too!" Ron shot to his feet. "Neville, you too. Didn't your gran say you should learn from Harry? This is your chance!"

Neville nodded.

The compartment door slid shut. Scabbers shivered again, drowsy on the diary.

Harry cast one last glance.

"Don't—" Hermione tried to grab Harry, only to end up as an ornament on his arm. Under the stares of other students, she hopped down sheepishly and followed behind him like a reluctant little tail.

Just then, Percy appeared, a P for prefect pinned to his chest, looking to Hermione like a god descending from the heavens.

"Stop right there. Back to your compartments. I'm a prefect!"

"Stop." "I'm a prefect!"

Two nearly identical voices chimed in, oddly in sync.

"Move aside." "If Mum finds out you're throwing your Prefect weight around in front of Harry Potter..."

"You'll be." "In for it."

Two nearly identical faces appeared behind Percy, and then each reached out an arm, hoisting him up.

The two of them shoved Percy into the compartment, then flanked left and right, tipping their hats to Harry in salute—though they wore no hats at all.

"Please, pass." "The Boy Who Lived, conqueror ever victorious."

"I'm George." "And I'm Fred."

"Nope, I'm Fred." "You're George."

The compartment door opened and closed again, and the two each stuck out a hand, pressing Percy back down inside.

"They're both my brothers!" Ron's brash voice drew the curtain on this little drama.

"Which one's George and which one's Fred?" Hermione couldn't help asking.

"Don't bother telling them apart. They're always together. I half suspect they'll hold their weddings together too." Ron waved dismissively. "Unless one of them dies, of course—and that's not happening."

—What a jinx.

Harry, who had been striding lightly, paused for just a moment.

Meanwhile, in the Hogwarts staff room behind the hidden door off the main dais in the Great Hall.

"Dumbledore!"

Snape pushed the door open, his black robes billowing as he advanced, as if fitted with a bellows, making him look like a giant human bat.

"You let Harry Potter take the train to school?"

"After what happened in Knockturn Alley, do you know how many people have their eyes on him!"

"In my house, nearly every student holds a grudge against him."

"Narrow corridors, train compartments—he won't have a chance to use his astonishing speed!"

"You promised me you'd protect him!"

"You underestimate Harry too much. Your students can't hurt him." Dumbledore said calmly. "And... Quirinus may arrive at any moment. It wouldn't be wise to expose your concern for Harry."

"Fine, I'll just wipe his memory." Snape raised an eyebrow. "It's not like the Dark Lord is hiding in the back of his skull. What do you mean, can't hurt him? There are plenty of curses that aren't life-threatening. My students are used to ambushes. That boy is still human—he gets tired, he has to sleep, he has to nod off."

"I always thought you only cared that he stayed alive." Dumbledore sounded surprised.

"My students aren't up to standard. They're only Slytherin in their underhanded cunning, but in temperament, too many are reckless like Gryffindors or careless like Hufflepuffs." Snape said. "They're likely to slip up—just like James Potter's nasty prank nearly killed me."

"I'm saying... using the Cruciatus Curse wouldn't matter, would it? With our skill level, we probably couldn't kill him anyway."

In the Slytherin-exclusive compartment, a sullen boy suggested, "Let's each hit him with one. Use this wand!"

"Unforgivable Curses leave no trace—only the Priori Incantatem can check the wand. We just need to hit him with a Memory Charm, then snap this one weak link." He brandished the wand again. "Blackthorn, Dragon Heartstring. Perfect for Dark magic."

"With our family backgrounds, even if we're caught, we'd just get expelled. Worst case, we go to Durmstrang!"

"Dumbledore always gives people a second chance."