Glimpse of Magic

"Wouldn't it be troublesome to move around the train if it's the three of us?" Neville asked, fidgeting with his sleeves. 

Harry shrugged, "It could be, but there's no need for us to move around."

Ron smirked knowingly. "Oh, this is going to be good," he said, leaning back with his arms folded.

Hermione shot him a sharp look, clearly unimpressed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Ron just snickered. "Trust me, you'll find out soon enough."

Harry didn't say anything, his expression calm as he closed his eyes briefly. Without any outward sign of effort, he let his magical energy unfurl like a vast, invisible wave, spreading through the train in an instant. Every compartment, every sound, every detail came into sharp focus in his mind. He could sense students chatting, laughing, and even dozing off, their presence lighting up like stars on a map in his thoughts.

"Found him," Harry said, opening his eyes and looking at Neville. "Your toad's up front in the driver's compartment, sitting near the controls."

Neville's eyes widened in shock. "Really? All the way up there?"

Harry nodded, his tone casual. "Seems like he's making himself comfortable."

Neville's jaw dropped, and then relief washed over his face. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I thought I'd lost him for good!"

Before Harry could react, Neville grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically, practically bouncing with gratitude.

"Anytime," Harry said, chuckling as he gently pried his hand free. Neville was about to rush off in the direction of the driver's compartment when Harry raised a hand to stop him.

"No need to go all the way up there," Harry said calmly, stepping toward the compartment door.

"What are you—" Hermione began, but Harry ignored her, sliding the door open and extending his hand into the corridor.

"Accio toad."

The words were quiet, almost an afterthought, but the effect was immediate. A faint rush of air swept through the train as Trevor, the toad, came zooming through the compartments at an impressive speed. Gasps and startled exclamations echoed from passengers along the way as the toad streaked by, heading straight for Harry's outstretched hand.

With a soft slap, Trevor landed neatly in Harry's palm. The toad croaked indignantly, but Harry smiled, unbothered.

"Here he is," Harry said, turning and holding Trevor out to Neville, who stared at him with his mouth hanging open.

"You… you just…" Neville stammered, taking Trevor carefully as though he couldn't believe what had just happened.

But Harry wasn't done. He gave Trevor a thoughtful look, then waved his free hand. A faint shimmer surrounded the toad, forming a transparent barrier that encased him like a tiny, magical box.

"This should keep him from hopping away again," Harry said, stepping back and gesturing for Neville to inspect the barrier.

Neville's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "Thank you! I can't believe it—you're amazing!" And with that he went back to his compartment.

Hermione on the other hand, looked as if her brain had short-circuited. She stared at the shimmering barrier around Trevor, then at Harry, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Harry smirked as he looked at her and thought, "Wow, I have Hermione Granger at loss for words." 

Ron, who had been enjoying Hermione's meltdown, decided to add fuel to the fire. "Oh, and you haven't even seen the half of it yet. Harry here, does all of his magic wandless and he can also Apparate and Disapparate at will—that too without a single sound."

Hermione finally spoke, her voice tinged with skepticism and curiosity. "How did you do that? Magic isn't supposed to work like that. Not at your age."

Harry titled his head with a smirk, "And how exactly is magic supposed to work, Miss Granger?" 

Hermione bristled, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Well, it's supposed to have limits! Controlled spells, clear incantations, proper wands. What you did—" She waved her hand vaguely, trying to find the right words. "It's not in any book I've read."

Harry chuckled, "That's your first mistake, Hermione. Magic is so much more than just what's in the books. Magic is magic. I never understand why people tend to attach so many meaningless rules and regulations to it." 

Hermione frowned, looking genuinely torn between fascination and frustration. "That doesn't make any sense. Magic has rules. It's structured. You can't just… do things because they feel natural!"

Harry smiled, "I just did. I have been doing that since forever." 

Hermione's sharp gaze flicked between the two boys, her brows furrowed. "That doesn't explain how you sensed the toad from here. The train is huge—there's no way even an adult wizard could cast a spell to cover all of it."

Harry chuckled, "It's not a spell. I just spread out my magical energy throughout the train to look for that toad and I saw it in the driver's compartment. It's nothing too complex." 

"Yeah right! You and your really normal way of life", Ron said sarcastically. 

Hermione's expression shifted, curiosity overtaking her skepticism. "But… how? Spreading out magical energy isn't something they teach us, even in the advanced sections of Magical Theory."

Harry smiled, "Why don't you sit down and I'll try to answer your questions?" 

Hermione immediately sits down beside Ron who looked surprised to see her sit right beside him. 

"The answer to your question, Hermione, is simply you have not read the basic books on magic. And don't worry, everyone skips them. I only managed to read them by sheer luck, or else I would have been just like others as well." Harry replied. 

Hermione blinked, looking genuinely startled. "Basic books? What basic books? I read A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, Magical Theory, and everything else on the first-year list! If there's something I missed, I'd like to know."

Harry chuckled, "I'm talking about books that aren't on the Hogwarts curriculum. Ones that you'd generally overlook thinking they are worthless. Books that teach you the utmost basics of magic—what is magic exactly? Basics that wizards seem to forget because they're so focused on spells and wandwork."

Hermione frowned, her curiosity sharpening further. "So you're saying there's an entirely different way of learning magic? One that doesn't follow the structured lessons we're taught?"

"Pretty much," Harry said, leaning back casually. "Most people go about magic by memory and practice, but they don't really understand what it is they're doing. And what happens when you try to write without learning the alphabets?" 

"You just copy it as something of a sketch rather than knowing the words…" Hermione muttered slowly. 

Harry nodded, "Exactly. I know it sounds strange, and honestly, I don't talk about it much because I don't want to come off as boastful. But it's just the way my magic works because that's how I learnt it. And I also doubt that I innately get magic." 

Hermione stared at him, her expression softening from shock to contemplation. "I don't think you're boasting. I just… I didn't think magic could work like that. It's…" She paused, searching for the right word. "Inspiring."

To break the moment, Harry reached over to the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans on the seat beside Ron. Picking a bean at random, he held it between his fingers. "Now, watch this."

He rolled the bean across his palm, and before Hermione's fascinated eyes, it shimmered and transformed. The small, colorful candy elongated and expanded, taking on a metallic sheen. Within moments, it had become a delicate silver pocket watch, its cover engraved with a swirling magical design, now a striking combination of matte black and rose gold. 

As Harry opened the watch, it let out a melodic chime that harmonized with the clicking of its inner gears. The watch then spoke in a pleasant voice, "The time is now 10:15 AM."

Hermione gasped, leaning in to examine the watch. "You transfigured it? But that level of detail… and it's enchanted to tell time! That's…" She trailed off, her brain seemingly struggling to keep up. 

Hermione stared, her mouth opening and closing as though words were stuck somewhere between her thoughts and her lops. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Harry, her mind spinning with everything she had just witnessed. 

Harry chuckled, reaching into the bag containing chocolate cauldrons, and handed her one. 

"Here," he said, his tone light. "Eat this. It might help." 

Still caught in her daze, Hermione absently took the chocolate cauldron, her gaze fixed on Harry as if he was some unsolvable puzzle. She brought the treat to her lips without even looking at it and bit into it. But even the indulgent flavour did little to calm the chaos brewing in her mind. 

How? The question echoed endlessly, refusing to settle. Harry's display defied everything she thought she understood about magic. Wandless magic, precise transfiguration, and the ability to sense magic with such clarity… this demanded a wizard to be much older and have much more experience with magic. 

But Harry? He was her age. A first-year. A boy who had only just begun his magical education, like her, at least that's what she thought. How could he possibly wield such advanced magic with such ease? And not to mention without a wand?

Hermione's logical mind rebelled against what she'd seen. Wandless magic was advanced, extremely rare even among adult wizards. To perform it required immense focus, raw magical power, and years of rigorous training. And yet, Harry executed it as if it were second nature, as if the boundaries that constrained others didn't apply to him.

Her thoughts spiraled further. Was Harry already that powerful? Was his magic inherently different? Could he be destined for something far beyond the mundane lessons they were about to learn at Hogwarts? The questions raised unsettling implications, and for the first time, Hermione realized how little she knew about magic, since everything she knew about magic came from her imagination and books. 

She felt her cheeks flush slightly as Harry leaned back in his seat, utterly unbothered by the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her head. His calm confidence only deepened the enigma, making her both curious and uneasy. 

As the silence lingered, Hermione grappled with the stark realization that Harry was far from ordinary. He wasn;t just another child on the train to Hogwarts. He was something else entirely—something extraordinary. And she, for her knowledge and determination, was utterly unprepared for the implications of what she had just seen. 

Harry turned to look at Hermione who has not stopped looking at him, ever since she sat down. He smirks to himself as he knows that Hermione's mind must be in chaos right now, trying to figure out his powers. He bit into one of the licorice wands as he stared at Hermione, smirking. 

Just then the compartment door slid open with a sharp clack. The sudden interruption drew the attention of the trio, Ron, Hermione and Harry. Standing in the doorway was a pale boy with sleek, blond hair and a pointed face that carried an air of practiced superiority. Behind him loomed two hulking figures, one round-faced and dull-eyed, the other tall and broad-shouldered, both clearly present to emphasize their leader's importance. Crabbe and Goyle. God, they really had the build of a troll, Harry thought. 

Harry cringed internally at the sight. Draco was everything he had imagined him to be. He really wanted to punch that smug face. Malfoy's cold, gray eyes scanned the compartment, pausing briefly on Ron, who had a smear of chocolate on his cheek, before settling on Harry. The recognition was instant. Draco's gaze dropped to Harry's forehead, where the lightning-shaped scar was faintly visible beneath his messy black hair.

"Well, well," he drawled, his eyes narrowing as they flicked to the scar on Harry's forehead. "So it's true. Harry Potter is in this compartment. It's you, isn't it?"

Harry looked up, his expression calm and composed. "That's me," he said with a small, polite smile. "And you are?" He asked, even though he already knew who he was. 

The boy smirked as though he'd been waiting for this moment. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He gestured dismissively toward the boys behind him. "This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle."

Harry's gaze shifted briefly to the two boys, giving a courteous nod. "Pleasure to meet you all. How can I help you, Draco?"

Ron, sitting beside Hermione, let out a poorly disguised snicker. Draco's smirk vanished, replaced by a sneer as he turned to Ron.

"Something funny?" he asked sharply, his voice laced with disdain. "I suppose I don't need to ask who you are. All the Weasleys look the same—red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down robes." He smirked cruelly. "Tell me, does your family always embarrass themselves, or is that just your thing?"

Ron's ears turned red as he clenched his fists, but before he could retort, Draco turned back to Harry, his expression softening into what he likely thought was charm.

"You'll find out soon enough, Potter, that some wizarding families are better than others," Draco said, extending a hand. "You don't want to go around making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you avoid that."

Harry smiled and took his hand. His grip was firm, unyielding, and Draco's confident smile wavered as he winced. 

"How thoughtful of you," Harry said softly. "But you see, Draco, you just insulted one of my friends—someone I value a lot." 

Draco tried to pull his hand back, but Harry held firm, his voice lowering to a steely whisper. "I know exactly what kind of people I should associate with. And I certainly don't need the advice of someone who boasts about their family while turning a blind eye to their history of supporting Voldemort. You do know he killed my parents, don't you?"

Draco paled, his bravado crumbling as Harry released his hand with a flick. He staggered back a step, clutching his fingers as though Harry's grip had burned him.

Harry straightened, his calm demeanor returning as he spoke with quiet finality. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass. Choose your next words carefully, Draco. Not everyone will be as kind as I am."

Draco stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. Finally, he snapped, "You'll regret this, Potter." He turned sharply on his heel, his two cronies hurrying after him as the door slid shut behind them.

The compartment door slid shut with a resounding thud as Draco and his cronies left, their retreat punctuated by muttered threats and the sound of heavy footsteps fading down the corridor. A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by Ron's sharp intake of breath.

"Harry," Ron said in a hushed, urgent tone, his face pale. "Why did you say his name? You know… You-Know-Who's name?"

Harry turned his gaze to Ron, his expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, his jaw tightened, and the calm façade cracked ever so slightly.

"It's just a name, Ron," he said, his voice clipped.

Ron shook his head, his freckles standing out starkly against his pallor. "It's not just a name! People who've said it—bad things happen to them. You don't mess around with—"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, it's a bloody name!" Harry snapped, his voice rising. He stood abruptly, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something raw.

Ron flinched, leaning back in his seat, but Harry didn't seem to notice—or care. "What do you think it'll do to me, huh? Strike me down on the spot? Bring him back from the dead? Voldemort," he said, enunciating each syllable with deliberate defiance. "See? I'm still here. Alive and well."

"Harry—" Ron started, but Harry cut him off, stepping closer.

"No, Ron. You need to stop letting fear rule you. Saying his name doesn't give him power—it's people like you, too scared to even speak it, who do that. The more you let fear control you, the stronger he becomes, even if he's not here."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her wide eyes darting between the two boys. "Harry, I think Ron was just—"

"Just what?" Harry interrupted, rounding on her. "He needs to understand. If we can't even say his name, how are we supposed to stand up to him if he ever comes back?"

Harry took a deep breath, seeming to catch himself. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back down, the fire in his eyes dimming but not extinguished. "Look, I'm not trying to scare you," he said more softly, though his tone still carried an edge. "But this fear—this silence—only helps people like him. And I won't be part of it."

The compartment lapsed into an uneasy quiet. Ron shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the floor. Hermione bit her lip, clearly wanting to say something but holding back.

After a long moment, Harry leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "If you don't believe me," he said, his voice calm but firm, "say it yourself. Prove to yourself that it's just a name. Voldemort."

Ron looked up, his face pale but resolute. He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, with a visible effort, he whispered, "V-Voldemort."

"See?" Harry said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Still breathing. No curses. No dark magic. Just words, Ron."

Ron nodded slowly, though the unease in his expression didn't entirely fade. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed thoughtful, her sharp mind clearly processing Harry's words.

The train jolted slightly, and a calm, echoing voice rang through the compartments. "We will be arriving at Hogsmeade Station in approximately 15 minutes. Please ensure you have all your belongings and are dressed in your school robes."

Harry opened the watch he had transfigured, and the voice sang out, "It's 5:45 PM." 

Hermione rose from her seat with a determined look. "I should go and change," she announced. "And you two should probably get ready as well." She grabbed her robes and made her way to the door, but paused just as her hand touched the handle. 

"Ron," she said, her brow furrowed as she looked at him. "You've got something on your nose. Right there." She gestured vaguely.

Ron turned crimson, hurriedly rubbing at his nose with his sleeve. "Got it?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"Almost," Hermione said, suppressing a small smile. Then her eyes darted to Harry. "Are we...friends?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. "Of course we are. Why, Hermione? Would you rather not be my friend?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed a deep pink. "No! I mean, of course, I want to—uh, I mean—yes, I do…" Her words trailed off into an incoherent mumble as she looked down at her feet. Without another word, she darted out of the compartment, her robes clutched tightly in her hands.

As the door slid shut behind her, Harry chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Well, that was unexpected," he muttered, leaning back in his seat.

Ron looked at him, puzzled. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just thinking I might need to nudge things along between you two sooner rather than later. Wouldn't want Hermione developing a crush on me, would we?"

Ron turned bright red, his freckles standing out starkly against his face. "Wh-what are you on about?"

Harry only laughed, pulling his robes from his bag and standing up to change. "Nothing, Ron. Nothing at all."

Harry and Ron stepped off the train, joining the surge of students spilling onto the tiny, dark platform. The chatter and shuffle of feet filled the air as first years pushed and jostled their way through the crowd. Above the sea of heads, a bobbing lamp caught Harry's eye, and then a booming voice called out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Harry craned his neck, his jaw dropping slightly as he looked at Hagrid. A man—no, a giant of a man—stood waving his enormous hand. His wild black beard and hair seemed to spill in every direction, leaving only his twinkling eyes visible beneath the tangled mass. He towered over the crowd like a friendly mountain come to life, the glowing lantern in his hand appearing almost comically small in comparison.

"That's a man?" Ron muttered, sounding genuinely horrified. "Blimey, I reckon he could squash us with one hand."

Harry chuckled, watching as Hagrid's massive frame moved effortlessly through the throng of forest years. Despite his intimidating size, the man radiated warmth, a kind smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

"C'mon now, follow me! ANy more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs's years, follow me!"

The first years, Ron and Harry among them, hurried after him, their smaller forms trailing behind his colossal strides. The group was guided down a steep, narrow path, the flickering light of Hagrid's lantern the only thing illuminating their way. 

"You'll get yet firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder. "Jus' round this bend here."

As the path turned, the scenery opened like a curtain being drawn, and a collective gasp escaped the group. The vast expanse of a black lake stretched before them, its surface mirroring the sky above. On the other side, high atop a mountain, stood a magnificent castle. Hogwarts. Its glittering windows and countless turrets seemed to reach out to the heavens, a beacon of wonder and magic. 

"Whoa…" Ron breathed, his earlier fear forgotten. "It's like something outta a storybook."

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid instructed, pointing to a fleet of small wooden boats waiting at the water's edge. Harry and Ron climbed into a boat, soon joined by Neville and Hermione.

"We meet again," Harry said with a small grin, breaking the silence.

Neville and Hermione smiled back, their excitement written plainly on their faces.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid called, settling himself into a boat of his own. The tiny vessel creaked under his weight but held steady. "Right then — FORWARD!"

The boats glided forward in unison. The castle loomed larger as the boat got closer, its majestic outline dominating the horizon.

 "Heads down!" Hagrid shouted as they neared the cliffside. Harry ducked just in time, the boat slipping through a curtain of ivy that concealed a wide, dark opening in the rock.

They entered a cool, echoing tunnel, the air heavy with moisture. The boats carried them steadily along until they emerged into a hidden harbor, where the water lapped against rocks and pebbles. Climbing out, the first years followed Hagrid up a narrow passageway carved into the rock, the flickering light of his lantern guiding their way.

When they finally stepped onto the grass, the full silhouette of the castle came into view, towering above them with an imposing grace. Harry couldn't help but let his magic stretch out, brushing against the ancient stone. He felt the labyrinth of corridors, the spiraling staircases, and even the distant owlery. Probing further, he found the entrance hall, its towering ceiling and echoing grandeur vivid in his mind. As he reached for the Great Hall, feeling the thrumming energy of its occupants, his connection was abruptly severed.

"Patience, Harry," came a calm, familiar voice in his mind. "You will see it all soon enough."

Harry blinked, recognizing Dumbledore's subtle yet firm presence, and smiled to himself.

Hagrid lumbered forward, his massive frame blotting out the starlight as he approached the castle's oak doors. With a resounding boom, boom, boom, he knocked three times, his gigantic fist making the heavy wood tremble.

"Bet even the door's scared of him," Ron whispered, drawing a quiet chuckle from Harry.

As the doors creaked open, warm golden light spilled out, bathing the gathered first years in its glow. Harry felt his pulse quicken—Hogwarts awaited.