Malfoy, Cornered (?)

"Excuse me, has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his."

The girl speaking had a bush of brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"No, we haven't," Ron said, shrugging with a touch of awkwardness.

"That's alright then."

The girl and Neville turned to leave the compartment, but a sudden urge to show off in front of Harley Potter seized Ron. "Wait!" he called out. "I might be able to help him find his toad."

Five minutes later, they watched as Ron pulled a battered, ancient wand from his trunk, which caused a rat inside to squeak in protest.

"Alright, alright, Scabbers," Ron soothed. "I didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep."

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. The girl and the tearful boy named Neville sat down as well.

"Hermione Granger," the girl said.

"Ron Weasley."

"Neville Longbottom," Neville said, his tone suggesting he wished he had never existed.

"Harley Potter."

The air in the compartment went still for a moment. Hermione said in amazement, "It's really you! I've read all about you in books."

"Is that so? What do the books say?" Harley asked calmly.

Hermione started to answer, then stopped, as if realizing she was being tactless. Still, she spoke up after a moment of hesitation.

"You're known as the Girl Who Lived, because Voldemort learned of a prophecy that you would kill him and end his dark reign. So, he came to your house."

Ron interrupted her quickly, "Alright! Enough! I'm going to start the spell!"

Harley looked calm, but her left hand, hidden beneath the table, was clenched white.

Ron waved his wand with a flourish, cleared his throat, and recited words that sounded more like gibberish than a spell: "Toad! Come!"

Nothing happened.

Hermione stared at the wand, cupping her chin. "Is that a wand? But the notice sent out this year clearly stated that we no longer need wands."

Ron tried again. Seeing no result, he tossed the wand onto the table in frustration. "Yeah, but my mum insisted I bring it. She said it would be useful—though I don't know what for."

"Let me try."

Harley picked up his wand and asked Neville, "What's your toad's name, Neville?"

Neville didn't even dare look at Harley; Ron was certain he was about to faint, but he still managed to choke out two words: "Trevor."

"Alright, let me give it a go."

She mimicked Ron's movements, waving the wand with an air of unquestionable authority and a firm tone: "Trevor! Come!"

A beam of fiery red magic shot from the tip of the battered wand before vanishing into thin air. A toad came flying from outside the compartment at high speed; it seemed to have no idea what was happening before Neville caught it in his arms.

"Whoa!" Ron and Hermione exclaimed in surprise.

"Trevor!"

Neville sobbed, clutching the toad tighter. Ron thought to himself that this might be exactly why it kept running away.

Hermione offered a sincere compliment: "You're very talented, Harley."

"Maybe."

Harley returned the wand to Ron, distracted. A knock sounded at the compartment door, and a vendor with dimpled cheeks pushed it open, asking, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Harley wasn't hungry. Ron declined, saying he had brought sandwiches, though his eyes clearly betrayed his desire for the treats. Neville said nothing, still lost in his own world with his toad. Hermione politely bid them farewell, and the two left the compartment.

Harley simply told the vendor, "I'll take one of everything, please."

To Ron's amazement, they began sharing the strange but delicious snacks while chatting. Harley learned about a series of magical wonders, such as Quidditch and wizarding cards. Time flew by in their conversation.

Just then, the compartment door opened again, and a pale, blond boy walked in, flanked by two large, burly boys. He didn't even look at them, introducing himself with an air of indifference: "I'm Draco Malfoy. These two are Crabbe and Goyle."

Malfoy looked up, and his eyes lit up when he saw Harley.

But upon seeing Ron, he let out a soft scoff. "Oh, it's a Weasley."

He drew out the words in a way that made his mockery obvious even without looking at his expression, which was one of undisguised derision.

Ron's face turned bright red, and he stood up.

Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, shielding Malfoy, whose voice could be heard from behind them: "What? Looking for a fight?"

Harley stood up unhurriedly. She pushed past Crabbe and Goyle and extended a hand toward the boy. "Harley Potter."

Ron was surprised to see Malfoy's complexion shift rapidly from pale to flushed. He stepped forward to shake Harley's hand, his arrogant demeanor vanishing instantly. "Oh, Miss Potter, a pleasure."

His attitude was clearly selective. He turned to look at Ron, flashing a triumphant smile. "My father told me that all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harley. "But you'll soon find that there are good families and bad families in the wizarding world. We aren't all like the Weasleys. I'm sure you wouldn't want to make the wrong sort of friends. In that regard, I can help you, Miss Potter."

Harley smiled, shook off his hand, and shoved him against the compartment door, his head hitting the wood with a loud thud.

Crabbe and Goyle seemed confused, frozen in place, while Ron's expression was even more vacant. He looked like a stunned wall.

"I have red hair, too. And I don't need anyone to tell me who I should be friends with, Mr. Malfoy. I suggest you show some manners instead of barging into my compartment like a damn hooligan and ruining our afternoon."

"Your arrogant attitude and tone do not add to your charm; they only make you look repulsive."

Harley's sharp words were like a knife. Ron could see that Malfoy had wanted to lash out, but when he met Harley's gaze, he couldn't say a word. His eyes turned red, and he actually began to sniffle.

"So, are you going to start crying now?" Harley said coldly.

"No, no, I'm not. I'm not crying!"

Malfoy shouted, choking back his tears. Harley suddenly smiled again, as if she weren't the same person from a moment ago, though her tone remained cold enough to freeze someone solid: "Leave, would you?"

Malfoy didn't say a word, leaving with Crabbe and Goyle. They didn't even forget to close the door, and Ron could still hear his muffled sobbing from outside the compartment.

Harley sat back down, picked up a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and tossed it into her mouth. Her face crumpled: "Remind me next time not to eat these things. Good heavens, this tastes as awful as spider legs."

Ron stared at her blankly, eyes unblinking, his mouth hanging open like a statue. Harley picked up a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and tossed it into his mouth. Ron chewed instinctively and said, "Oh, honey-flavored."

"Looks like you're in luck."

Harley laughed. It was as if Ron had suddenly recovered from a short circuit; he jumped up from his seat and shouted excitedly: "You were absolutely cool just now! My god! You pushed him against the compartment door. And. And."

Ron began to ramble incoherently, and Harley smiled helplessly. She didn't want to talk about that side of the story.

An orphan, a foster orphan, an orphan who was undervalued and constantly threatened with being sent to an orphanage. If she wanted to avoid being bullied in the neighborhood, she couldn't show any weakness.

To her, this wasn't even worth mentioning; she had dealt with far worse than this.