"Dumbledore?" Harry repeated.
Ron, thinking Harry didn't know who Dumbledore was, said, "Don't tell me you don’t know Dumbledore, mate. He’s only the greatest wizard in the world."
"Is that so?" Harry replied absentmindedly.
"Check the back of the card," Ron suggested, pulling it from Harry’s hand. "I'll read it to you."
"Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster of Hogwarts, is widely recognized as the greatest wizard of our time," Ron began.
"Dumbledore is known for his numerous achievements, including defeating the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, discovering the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his collaboration with Nicolas Flamel in alchemy—"
Harry interrupted suddenly at the mention of a familiar name, "Who?"
"Nicolas Flamel," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "His partner. You know him?"
"No, I meant the one before that. Who did he defeat?" Harry clarified.
"The Dark Wizard, Grindelwald," Ron replied.
That name sent Harry’s thoughts spiraling back a century to his fifth year.
"Hey, mate," Gareth, Harry’s dormmate, nudged him with his elbow. "Did you hear? We’re getting a new student this year."
"Really?" Harry asked indifferently, picking up his water goblet.
"Yeah, heard it from my aunt—she’s the deputy headmistress, so she always knows before us. But the feast has started, and they’re still not here."
As Gareth finished speaking, the Great Hall doors swung open dramatically.
Harry turned to see a disheveled Professor Figo accompanied by a stunning girl who looked almost ethereal.
Her golden hair shimmered even more brightly than Malfoy’s, Harry thought.
Sensing his gaze, the girl looked at Harry and smiled sweetly.
That smile felt like moonlight pouring over his heart, catching him completely off guard. He choked on his drink and clumsily wiped his mouth with his robe, managing only to return an awkward grin.
"Snap out of it, mate," Gareth teased, elbowing Harry again. "You’re practically glued to her. Look at Malfoy’s face—she’s probably planning to mock you later."
Harry snapped out of it, glancing at the Slytherin table. Cassandra Malfoy was glaring at him with utter disdain.
When the Sorting Hat called out, "Slytherin!" the Hall erupted in applause.
Before Harry knew it, the girl was standing beside him, to Gareth’s evident envy.
"Hello. May I sit here?" she asked.
"Of course! Please do," Harry stammered, hurriedly pushing Gareth aside to make room. Ignoring his friend’s wounded look, the girl took the seat next to Harry.
And that was how Harry met Veratia, who would become one of his closest friends.
Harry shook himself out of the memory. No matter what Ron said, he couldn’t believe Veratia had become a Dark Wizard.
"How could she be a Dark Wizard?" Harry muttered.
Ron, chewing a candy, glanced at him. "She? Oh no, mate, Grindelwald was a bloke. His name’s... oh yeah, Gellert Grindelwald. Heard his relationship with Dumbledore was pretty complicated."
"Oh." Harry sighed with relief.
He then recalled—ah, Gellert.
He’d met Gellert during a Christmas visit to Veratia’s family in Austria-Hungary. Back then, Gellert had been an eight-year-old boy with a temper as fiery as his sunflower-yellow hair.
That kid? A Dark Wizard?
Dark wizard or not, Harry couldn’t help but remember how pinchable Gellert’s cheeks had been.
"Mate, you really need to catch up on wizarding history," Ron sighed. "You’re the Chosen One! You can’t keep being this clueless."
"You’re right," Harry agreed earnestly.
At that moment, the compartment door slid open again.
A pudgy boy with tear-filled eyes asked timidly, "Sorry to bother you, but have you seen my toad?"
Both Harry and Ron shook their heads. The boy burst into tears.
"It keeps running away from me! I’ve lost it again…"
"Take it easy," Ron offered. "Maybe it’ll turn up soon."
The boy didn’t respond and bolted out of the compartment, still crying.
"If I had a toad, I’d have chucked it ages ago," Ron muttered. "I just don’t see the appeal. Thank Merlin I’ve got Scabbers. Sure, he’s old and lazy, sleeps like the dead, but he’s been with me for years. Honestly, I kind of like him. Don’t judge!"
Harry was taken aback by Ron’s peculiar fondness for his rat but decided not to judge. Everyone had their quirks.
However, he was firm about one thing—Hedwig was never allowed on his bed.
"Yesterday, Fred and George taught me a spell to turn Scabbers yellow. Wanna see?" Ron said, pulling out an old, battered wand. "Look, even the unicorn hair’s poking out. But it’ll work."
"Charlie’s wand, right?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, Charlie’s old wand," Ron replied reluctantly.
Harry recalled Ollivander’s words: "The wand chooses the wizard." He wondered how well Charlie’s wand would work for Ron.
Before he could voice his concern, the door opened yet again.
"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one."
Harry recognized the voice instantly and looked up excitedly. "Hermione?"
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione beamed. "I was just looking for you. But then I saw Neville crying and thought I’d help. Are you practicing magic? I tried some spells at home—didn’t go well, though. Can I see what you’re doing?"
Her rapid-fire speech left Ron gaping. He had never met anyone who talked so fast.
Hermione, unfazed, plopped down beside Harry, who handed her a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.
Clearing his throat, Ron waved his wand theatrically. "Alright, watch this. Daisies, cream, sunshine—turn this rat yellow!"
"Are you sure that’s a spell?" Hermione asked skeptically.
Ron sheepishly lowered his wand, realizing Fred and George had pranked him again.
Hermione turned to Harry. "What about you, Harry? Can you—"
"You said that boy’s name was Neville?" Harry interrupted.
"Yes, Neville," Hermione replied.
Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the door. "Neville’s toad, come here!"
Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t believe she was stuck with two boys who were equally clueless about magic.
"Do you really think that’s going to work?" she asked incredulously.
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