Hogwarts Express

"Wake up, child. Wake up, don't sleep."

Oren groggily opened his eyes and saw a crooked-nosed old man putting robes on him.

Once Oren saw who it was, he immediately started talking.

"Isn't this my dear Headmaster Dumbledore? It's been a whole holiday. You finally decided to come back."

"Thanks to Professor Snape's guidance, my holiday was as fulfilling as a house-elf's."

"I'm confident that even the rabbit on the moon can't brew potions as well as I can now."

"All right, child. Today is the first day of term. The young wizards will be taking the Hogwarts Express to school."

"So what, Headmaster? Don't tell me we have to take that thing back to school now. Isn't that completely pointless?"

By then, Dumbledore had finished dressing Oren.

Bang! The two of them Apparated in front of an empty train. Oren did not throw up this time, though his face was pale.

"Child, this is a Hogwarts tradition, just like that traditional craft you mentioned."

Oren raised an eyebrow. Had that bastard Snape tattled on him?

"Ahem, Headmaster, listen to my explanation. Professor Snape's potion cabinet was definitely burned by a dragon—a Welsh Green—and those undead soldiers..."

Dumbledore looked utterly unconvinced.

"All right, Snape treated me like a house-elf. I was only retaliating in kind. At most, it counts as mutual harm."

Dumbledore had no interest in hearing about his and Snape's petty feud. He casually pulled out a handful of Galleons and handed them to Oren.

"All right, child. Have breakfast on the train."

"For the Sorting Ceremony, you'll be dealing with a troll. Remember not to use Dark magic."

Bang! With that, he Apparated away.

Oren looked at the empty platform, then at the steam locomotive. His teeth ached. No matter how he looked at it, this steam engine had nothing to do with the word "express."

With his hair in disarray, Oren walked through the train corridor. Put him in white clothes and pair that sky-high resentment with his appearance, and he could cosplay Sadako.

When he reached the rear of the train, he casually opened a compartment. Just as he was about to lie on the table and get some more sleep, a series of taps against the window caught his attention.

A large, sturdy tawny owl was pecking at the glass with its beak.

Oren opened the window and let it in, then took the note it was carrying.

"You're Hagrid's back-to-school gift for me?"

The owl nodded in a remarkably humanlike manner.

Oren looked at the burly owl and said, "I'll call you Ghost... No, no, Mige is better. With your build, you're definitely a fighter jet among owls... or maybe a bomber."

After petting the owl for a while, Oren was so hungry that he chose to hold Mige and sleep.

He groggily opened his eyes. The noisy sounds around him had finally woken him up. Looking out the window, he saw the platform packed with young wizards and their parents, with pets darting around everywhere.

After collecting himself, Oren looked around the compartment. Sitting opposite him was a black-haired boy. Black hair, green eyes, lightning scar—wasn't this the Savior, Harry Potter?

Were the Savior's arms and legs really this skinny before he came to Hogwarts?

After being stared at by Oren for so long, Harry's face began to redden.

Something's wrong with you. Why are you blushing?

"You must be Harry Potter. Hagrid mentioned you to me."

A clear look of disappointment flashed across Harry's face.

There's definitely something wrong with this kid!

"You're Oren, right?"

Oren was surprised. How did this kid know who he was?

Apparently noticing his surprise, Harry pointed at Mige.

"I bought that owl with Hagrid when he took me to Diagon Alley. He said it was meant to be a back-to-school surprise for you."

Seeing Harry's socially awkward look, Oren suddenly wanted Harry to explain exactly what the hell kind of surprise this was.

The compartment door opened, and a red-haired boy walked in. His face was covered in freckles, and there was a smudge of soot on his nose.

The boy said, "Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

The two nodded to show their agreement. Under Oren's gaze, the red-haired boy's face began to redden.

"You must be Ron. George and Fred mentioned you."

A clear look of disappointment flashed across the red-haired boy's face.

Oren?!

"Me? Those two would mention me?"

"That's right. George and Fred said Ron was their beloved friend and dear brother."

Ron looked doubtful. Give him a break—he knew those two brothers far too well. They would never say something like that.

Seeing that Ron did not believe him, Oren confessed, "All right, actually, they were discussing mortgaging you to Hogwarts for money to buy flying brooms."

Ron nodded. "That sounds much more like something they'd say."

Harry, Oren...

Harry said, "Ahem, Oren, is that toad your pet too?"

Oren???

He looked down and found a toad as big as a cooking pot lying beneath the table.

Disgusted, Oren nearly sent the thing off with a blast of Fiendfyre. Only after kicking the toad into the corner of the compartment did he finally catch his breath.

Oren complained, "Whose toad is this? What were they thinking, keeping something like that?!"

Harry shook his head. "No idea. Anyway, I'd never keep a toad."

Ron chimed in, "Even a rat is way better than that thing."

The three looked at each other and said, "Disgusting!"

The compartment door opened, and the red-haired twins squeezed inside.

"Hey, Ron, we're going to find Lee Jordan. He got hold of a huge bag of spiders."

"Oh," Ron replied, his face pale.

Oren said, "Fred, George, do you have anything to eat? I got tossed onto the train by the Headmaster without breakfast."

The twins thought about it for a while. In the end, George came up with a solution. He snatched the sandwich from Ron's hand and gave it to Oren.

Oren did not stand on ceremony. As he gnawed on the sandwich, he stabbed Ron right in the heart. "They really are your biological brothers."

Ron...

"Goodbye," the twins said farewell to everyone.

Ron said, "You seem really familiar with them. What's your name?"

Harry answered for Oren, who was wolfing down the sandwich without even looking up.

"He's Oren Black. I'm Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?!"

Harry foolishly lifted his fringe and showed Ron his lightning scar.

The two little boys began chattering away. Naturally, none of that mattered to Oren. Nothing was more important than eating. Only after filling his stomach would he have the strength to solo a troll.

Ron pulled out a sleeping fat old rat from his pocket and said,

"This is Scabbers. Ever since my brother Percy got an owl, he gave this rat to me."

The compartment door slid open. A woman with dimples and a smile on her face opened it and said,

"Would you children like to buy some snacks?"

One sandwich had not filled him up, so Oren casually pulled out a handful of Galleons and said,

"This, this, and that—I don't want those. I'll take everything else."

Ron, Harry...

Looking at the snacks piled across the table, Oren said, "Let's eat together." With that, he pushed the snacks toward the two of them.

While Harry and Ron studied Chocolate Frog cards and the other snacks, Oren had already devoured several pumpkin pasties.

Oren grumbled to himself about Dumbledore. Breakfast? It's already noon before anyone is even selling food. And this is called the Hogwarts Express? At this speed, we'll probably get to school at night.

Ron pointed his battered wand at the rat, seemingly intending to put on a show for everyone.

The compartment door opened, and a little girl and a round-faced little boy walked in.

Oren glanced at the girl and thought, Isn't this Hermione from the movies? Huh? She seems to have an extra pair of big front teeth. Her hair is all right, though it's even messier.

The girl said, "Have you seen a toad? Neville lost his toad."

Oren swallowed a bite of cauldron cake and pointed at the toad reflecting on its actions in the corner.

"Oh, Trevor!" The boy rushed over, picked up the toad, and rubbed his face against it.

Oren, Ron, Harry... subway, elderly man, phone.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" The boy said before running off with the toad in his arms.

The little girl showed no intention of leaving. Instead, she stared at Ron's wand.

"Are you about to cast a spell? Let's see it."

The little girl plopped down beside Oren.

Ron was somewhat at a loss, but he still waved his wand.

"Daisy, sweet cream, and sunshine,"

"Turn this rat yellow."

The rat did not change at all.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione raised her wand and cast a spell at Harry's glasses.

"Reparo!"

The spell instantly repaired the glasses.

The young witch said proudly, "I was shocked when I received my admission letter. No one in my family understands magic. I tried some spells during the holiday, and they all worked. I even memorized all the textbooks. I hope that helps. Oh, right, what are your names?"

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter! I read about you in the books, you're—"

"Wait, admission letter? What the hell is that?" Oren directly cut off the little witch's spellcasting.

A hint of surprise flashed across the little witch's calm face.

Hermione said in surprise, "Oh my God! You didn't receive an admission letter?"

Harry explained, "The owl delivers it. It's Hogwarts' acceptance letter."

Ron said, "Every young wizard gets one."

Oren shrugged. "Half a year ago, I was at home eating roast meat and singing songs when Dumbledore suddenly appeared. He told me I was a talented young wizard, put a wizard's hat on my head, and brought me to Hogwarts."

Harry slapped his forehead. "I remember now. Hagrid told me about it. You've been at Hogwarts for half a year longer than us."

The little witch said in surprise, "What do you mean, half a year earlier? Then how much magic have you learned? Are you the same age as us?"

Oren said calmly, "Of course I'm the same age. I haven't learned that much magic—only about half of the first-year material."

Oren was not lying. It was already pretty good that he could spare time to study first-year material. Most of his time had gone into researching how to cast the Killing Curse with dignity and unleash Fiendfyre with elegance.

The little witch completely lost it, turning into a bristling beaver. "This isn't fair!"

Looking at the bristling beaver sitting beside him, Oren could no longer suppress his mischievous streak.

"Ever heard of being naturally gifted? Even though I'm the same age as you, I'm still your upperclassman. And what's your name, little witch?"

"Hermione Granger," the little witch said weakly.

"No energy. How are you supposed to learn magic if you're that quiet? Don't you need to chant spells?!"

"Hermione Granger!" The little witch raised her voice considerably, probably reaching around sixty decibels.