Arriving at Hogsmeade

"Have you seen it?" Hermione asked a passing student anxiously, her voice quick and panicked. "It's Neville's pet toad, Trevor. He's gone missing!"

Vizet followed behind, his gaze sweeping the floor and corners of the train compartments. Neville shuffled along beside him, his face a mixture of worry and embarrassment.

"Trevor's always hopping away…" Neville muttered, wringing his hands.

"We'll find him," Vizet reassured him calmly, scanning ahead for any small movements.

The group began searching through the train carriages, poking under seats and asking other students. Most shrugged or shook their heads. A few older students smirked, clearly entertained by the spectacle of first-years chasing after a toad.

"Have you checked the storage area at the back of the train?" Cho Chang suggested thoughtfully, leaning against the compartment door. "He might've hopped back there — it's quieter."

"That's a good idea," Vizet agreed.

The group made their way toward the storage carriage, where luggage, owl cages, and other belongings were stacked. As they entered, Vizet noticed a faint rustling noise coming from a cluster of trunks and crates.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, crouching low to the ground.

Neville perked up, his eyes darting around. "Trevor? Trevor, is that you?"

Hermione pointed toward a small shadow that darted behind a trunk. "Over there!"

Neville scrambled forward, but Trevor, as if determined to avoid capture, leapt away with surprising speed. The toad hopped toward a precariously stacked pile of boxes.

"Oh no!" Hermione cried, chasing after him.

"Careful!" Vizet warned, holding her back as the stack wobbled dangerously.

Neville froze, staring helplessly as Trevor disappeared behind the pile. "What do we do now?"

Vizet thought quickly. "We'll need to lure him out. Neville, does Trevor have a favorite treat?"

Neville's face brightened. "Yes! He loves flies — well, chocolate-flavored ones. I bought some in Diagon Alley!"

Digging into his pocket, Neville pulled out a small bag of candy flies. He handed a few to Vizet, who crouched low to the ground, holding a fly just out in front of him.

"Trevor," Vizet called softly, his tone calm and coaxing, "come on, little guy. Look what I've got for you." 

After a moment of silence, a pair of shiny black eyes peeked out from behind the stack of boxes.

"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed in relief.

"Shh," Vizet whispered, not breaking eye contact with the toad. Slowly, Trevor began to hop toward the candy fly in Vizet's hand.

As the toad got closer, Neville carefully reached out, his hands cupped. With one final hop, Trevor leapt into Neville's grasp.

"You got him!" Hermione cheered, clapping her hands together.

Neville cradled Trevor with a mixture of relief and joy. "Thank you so much! I don't know what I'd do without him. My name's Neville, by the way — Neville Longbottom."

"It's no problem, Neville," Vizet said with a small smile. "Just keep a closer eye on him from now on."

Hermione's eyes sparkled with admiration as she turned to Vizet. "That was so clever! You're a natural problem solver. By the way, which house do you think you'll be in? Gryffindor, I hope — it's the best house!"

"I haven't really thought about it," Vizet replied, shrugging. "If I could choose, maybe Ravenclaw. But I'll leave it to the Sorting Hat."

Eventually, Cho Chang stepped in to politely usher Neville and Hermione out of the compartment, reminding them to inform the other students still searching that Trevor had been found.

"Whew…" Vizet sighed, slumping back into his seat. "That was more exhausting than practicing spells."

Cho Chang chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "This year's first-years are certainly full of energy."

Just then, Penelope stood and straightened the prefect badge on her chest. "I'd love to stay, but duty calls. I have a meeting to attend before we arrive."

As Penelope left, the train's announcement echoed hollowly through the corridors:

"The Hogwarts Express will arrive at the station in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train, and it will be transported to your dormitories."

------------------------------

In his quiet office, Dumbledore put down the chocolate frog card he'd been holding, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on it. His usual twinkle of amusement was replaced by a reflective expression.

"What a good child," he murmured to himself, his voice soft with both admiration and concern. "Always trying to help those in need… yet there's much more to him than meets the eye."

The smile faded as his thoughts turned to the past — moments he wished he could undo, mistakes he hoped never to repeat. With a gentle sigh, he leaned back in his high-backed chair.

"We need to guide him properly," he said aloud, as though speaking to the room itself. "What happened before must not happen again. Harry... and now Vizet. Careful arrangements will need to be made."

Just then, a firm knock on the door broke through his thoughts.

"Come in," Dumbledore called warmly, adjusting his glasses.

The door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall, her dark green robes sweeping the floor as she entered. She carried herself with her usual air of precision and purpose, though her stern expression softened slightly as she addressed him.

"Headmaster, are you ready with this year's sorting list?"

"Of course, Minerva." Dumbledore rose gracefully, extending a hand toward the parchment scroll on his desk. With a flick of his fingers, the scroll floated through the air toward McGonagall, unrolling as it went.

She caught it effortlessly, her sharp eyes scanning the beautifully written names. The emerald green ink glimmered faintly, as though just dried.

"Vizet's last name is Lovegood?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "What was his original family name?"

Dumbledore's expression turned contemplative. "Unfortunately, that detail is beyond verification. Too much has been lost to the shadows of his past… deliberately, I might add."

He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace slowly. "I investigated the circumstances thoroughly, including the involvement of a dark wizard. Yet every path led to obscurity."

"And so," he continued, stopping to face McGonagall, "I decided on the surname 'Lovegood.' It was a protective measure — necessary to keep him safe and anonymous. Until today, I've kept the connection quiet."

"Today?" McGonagall asked, her brow furrowing.

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded, his tone firm. "Now that Vizet has boarded the Hogwarts Express, I've arranged for Xenophilius Lovegood to formalize the documentation."

McGonagall considered this for a moment, then nodded her approval. "A wise decision. But it is unfortunate the news leaked before this… The Parkinson family remains as extreme as ever."

"They are set in their ways," Dumbledore said with a weary sigh. "But their influence is waning. The runespoor they prized so highly has been dealt with, and its eggs have been confiscated as reparations."

McGonagall's lips tightened. "Do you think they'll retaliate?"

"No," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling faintly once more. "I made it clear to them, face to face, that I will personally watch over Vizet. So long as Voldemort has not returned, they will not dare to act recklessly."

Reassured by his words, McGonagall's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Good. In that case, I'll leave you to prepare. The train is about to arrive."

She moved toward a tall cabinet in the corner of the room. Opening it, she retrieved a weathered and patched hat — the Sorting Hat. She handled it with care, as though it carried the weight of its centuries-old legacy.

With the sorting list and the hat in hand, McGonagall turned back toward the door.

"See you in the Great Hall, Headmaster," she said crisply before departing.

Dumbledore watched her leave, the faint sound of her measured footsteps echoing down the spiral staircase. Once she was gone, he waved a hand, and his vibrant purple robes embroidered with twinkling stars floated up, wrapping themselves around him.

His matching wizard's hat hovered briefly before settling atop his head. Adjusting the brim with a delicate touch, he took one last glance at the now-quiet office.

"All ready," he said softly to himself, his expression resolute.

With a quiet click, he closed the door behind him and began the short walk to the Great Hall. The night was young, and the Sorting Ceremony awaited.