"Is That Uchiha" Voldemort's Lackey?

The compartment door shut behind them, cutting off the curious, mocking, and fearful stares from the corridor.

In the cramped space, only the rhythmic rumble of the wheels and the uneven heavy breathing of the four remained.

Everything that had happened in less than half an hour had crashed against their understanding like a raging storm.

Ron slumped in his seat, rubbing his wrist, which had gone numb from the recoil against the wooden board. He said sullenly, "Why doesn't Percy do something about... that Uchiha? He's definitely a monster... And Malfoy, that despicable bastard!"

Harry leaned against the cold compartment wall and slowly slid down into a seat. Sitting by the window, he watched the Scottish wilderness race past outside, his face still somewhat pale. The scar on his forehead continued to throb faintly, constantly reminding him of those cold, crimson eyes in the compartment.

He lowered his head and looked at his right hand—

His knuckles were slightly red, and a little dark-red, half-dried blood still clung to his skin.

That was... Malfoy's nosebleed.

The sensation seemed to linger on his fist, unreal and faintly warm, sticky.

Had he really... hit someone just now? Used his fist to land a solid blow on Draco Malfoy?

On his first day in the wizarding world, aboard the Hogwarts Express?

This was completely different from the wizarding life he had imagined, and a complicated emotion rose within him—

There was little satisfaction at getting revenge. Instead, he felt an even deeper heaviness.

He subconsciously wiped his hand on his robe, yet that trace of blood felt as though it had been branded into his skin.

"That great lord will personally tear apart your ridiculous 'Savior' halo!"

Malfoy's words pierced his heart like poisoned thorns.

Ron dropped heavily into the seat opposite Harry, his chest still rising and falling violently. His face held a mixture of lingering excitement and a touch of after-the-fact fear.

He first looked at his own slightly reddened fist, then turned to Harry, relief shining in his gray-blue eyes.

He lowered his voice, though he could not hide his excitement. "Merlin's... holey socks..." Ron muttered, the corners of his mouth curling upward despite himself.

"Harry, that punch was bloody brilliant! Right on target! Bang! I'd bet Malfoy's nose will be crooked for at least three days! The way he howled like a dying animal! That was fucking satisfying!" He swung his fist hard, as if reliving the feel of it.

"Shut up! We got into a fight before school even started. We're really going to be famous now!"

Hermione grabbed at her hair irritably. "And that Uchiha boy, there's something wrong with him!"

At that, Ron, who had been excited just moments ago, flopped back into his seat and slammed a fist into the cushion. "Damn Malfoy! That greasy-faced pretty boy! Damn Slytherin! And that... that Uchiha monster!"

Hermione sat opposite Ron, her hands tightly clasped together. Her face was still pale, but the sharpness of thought had returned to her eyes.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, then looked gravely at Harry, who was curled up in his seat opposite her, still clutching his forehead in pain.

"Harry," Hermione said with unprecedented seriousness, "just now... in that Uchiha's compartment, when he... when he looked at you... and later in the corridor, when Malfoy mentioned him and provoked us... your scar—"

She pointed to the corresponding spot on her own forehead. "Did it hurt terribly? Worse than usual... more intensely?"

Harry jerked his head up, his green eyes full of pain and alarm. "Hermione? How... how did you know?"

He lowered his hand, revealing the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead with unusual clarity. It even seemed to carry a faint, unnatural dark-red tint.

"I noticed it too!" Ron suddenly sat upright and leaned closer, his face filled with realization and nervousness.

"When that Uchiha looked at you, your face was as white as a goblin's teeth! And when Malfoy mentioned him in the corridor, you instinctively grabbed your forehead!"

Hermione's pupils constricted slightly. She clenched her fists, lowering her voice further, but her tone was resolute. "Voldemort!" She breathed the name out, yet it exploded like thunder within the tiny enclosed compartment!

"Harry's scar is the mark left by Voldemort's curse when he tried to kill him! According to Famous Modern Curse Cases and Analysis and The Long-Term Effects of Dark Magic Injuries, this kind of wound is not merely a mark. It could also be... an anchor!"

The air in the compartment seemed to be sucked away in an instant.

Neville clapped a hand over his mouth in fright, letting out a short, terrified whimper. Trevor squirmed uneasily in his arms.

Ron sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide and round, his lips trembling, but he could not form a complete sentence.

"Y-you mean..." Ron's voice cracked from overwhelming terror, becoming high and thin. He stared at Harry in disbelief, then seemed to try to look through the compartment wall toward the front of the train.

"That Uchiha... he... he works for Voldemort?! Is... is he a Death Eater?!"

The possibility was so terrifying that Ron shuddered violently after saying it.

"That explains everything!" Hermione seemed to have seized the crucial clue, the chain of logic rapidly taking shape in her mind.

"The power he displayed! Cold, violent, filled with an absolute desire to dominate! Nothing like what a young wizard should possess! His methods were so ruthless and overbearing. He publicly trampled on the unspoken rules of Diagon Alley, scorned ancient traditions like Ollivander's, and 'conquered' a wand in the most brutal way possible! And those rumors about the spectacle at the platform... How is that someone coming to school? It was clearly a declaration and a threat!"

The faster she spoke, the more her face flushed with agitation. "And look at Malfoy's attitude! According to Ron, how arrogant was he before? His nose was practically pointed at the sky! But now? In front of that Uchiha, he was as humble as a dog wagging its tail for scraps! And he kept saying that 'that great lord is destined for Slytherin'!"

"Slytherin! How many dark wizards came from there? Voldemort graduated from there! And the Malfoy Family itself... itself is worth suspecting!" She stopped herself just in time from directly accusing a classmate's family, but her meaning could not have been clearer.

Hermione suddenly seized Harry's arm with enough force to hurt him. "Harry, have you seen the recent Daily Prophet?! The Uchiha Clan has used powerful force and a mixture of favors and intimidation to control most of London's underworld! They subdued those gangs! Consolidated resources... This isn't business or building influence at all! This is clearly preparation for... for Voldemort's return! Building a vast, secret logistical base, hidden in the shadows of the Muggle world, along with a reserve of recruits and an intelligence network!"

She took a breath, her voice trembling. "And this Uchiha, valued so highly by his family and sent to Hogwarts with such fanfare... his target is probably you, Harry! And... and Headmaster Dumbledore! His entering Hogwarts is a dangerous sign!"

"N-no way... That's too much..." Ron's voice was weak as he looked at Harry pleadingly, his face practically begging, Tell me Hermione is wrong. "Harry... what do you think? Your scar... is it really like Hermione says?"

Harry did not answer immediately.

The waves of stabbing pain from his scar kept reminding him that Hermione's terrifying deduction was most likely true.

When Uchiha Madara's cold, indifferent, abyss-like eyes surfaced in his mind again, the undisguised contempt and desire for destruction in that gaze... especially those words, "Savior? Is that all?" The naked mockery was like an icy dagger, piercing through all his courage and conviction.

"I... I don't know..." Harry's voice was hoarse and weak. He shut his eyes in pain, his fingers digging deep into his hair.

"But... what Hermione said... is possible... My scar... has never hurt this much..." The compartment fell into deathly silence.

Only the monotonous rumble of wheels grinding over the tracks remained, and now it sounded like a funeral bell.

Even the Scottish Highlands flashing past outside the window could not dispel the suffocating gloom weighing upon the four of them—

A mysterious, powerful, terrifying "Death Eater," Uchiha Madara, was already aboard the train to Hogwarts, and his target was very likely them!

[It had to be said, the prejudices of these wizarding-world natives were truly stubborn. They actually took Lord Madara for the plug-head's subordinate. Dear wizards, tell me, shouldn't they be given a shock? Ten thousand words updated daily—this little mouse is quietly asking for some support out of love...]