HP: Card System

"I read about him in a book." Ted extended his hand and shook Neville's somewhat hesitant one.

"Hey, my name's Ted Epifani. You can just call me Ted."

"H-Hello, just call me Neville." Neville's voice was quiet, his posture stiff. He looked like someone who had spent his whole life being stepped on, as if he expected people to push him around.

Ted couldn't help but worry about him—how was this kid supposed to handle the weight of being the Boy Who Lived?

What surprised Neville most was that Ted didn't ask to see his scar. He had grown used to people wanting to gawk at it ever since he was little. He hated the attention, but he never knew how to refuse.

For Ted to not bring it up at all? That was a first. It immediately earned him some favor in Neville's book.

Hermione gestured toward the mouse-eared boy. "This is Jerry! He's a first-year too. We're all going to be classmates!"

Ted smiled and reached out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Jerry. Call me Ted."

"Hey, Ted!" Jerry's eyes sparkled with curiosity, his demeanor much livelier than Neville's.

But then, a slight awkwardness settled into the compartment.

Neville didn't seem to know what to say and kept his gaze lowered, barely speaking. Jerry, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to join the conversation but was hesitant, as if still trying to figure out where Ted stood.

After all, while Hermione and Neville had been kind to him, Jerry wasn't sure if this new classmate would treat him differently because of what he was.

Hermione, completely oblivious to the tension, was already deep into a discussion about spells, flipping through her textbook and eagerly talking to Ted about magic. The two of them bounced ideas back and forth, totally engrossed in their conversation.

Meanwhile, Neville and Jerry kept sneaking glances at Ted.

They had already seen Hermione's brilliance—both in personality and magic. Neville, despite coming from the Longbottom family, hadn't known a single spell before arriving at Hogwarts. It wasn't until he was ten that his magic finally surfaced—thanks to an accidental near-death experience orchestrated by his uncle. There had even been whispers that the Boy Who Lived might actually be a Squib.

It would've been a tragedy—if the so-called savior of the wizarding world had no magic at all. The pressure on Neville had been unbearable.

He never wanted to be famous. He just wanted to be a normal, unremarkable wizard. But that was impossible.

Now, seeing that neither Ted nor Jerry were treating him like some kind of spectacle, Neville let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Jerry, on the other hand, had his own concerns. As a rat-eared demihuman, he had always been looked down on by certain pure-blood wizarding families. His family wasn't well-off either, and he had grown up knowing he had to be careful not to draw unwanted attention.

He had only touched a wand for the first time half a month ago.

And then there was Hermione—a Muggle-born who could already perform multiple spells. And Ted—who not only seemed knowledgeable but was casually giving Hermione pointers.

Who exactly was this guy?

Ted, of course, noticed their quiet scrutiny but didn't pay it much mind.

As time passed, Neville gradually eased up, and the atmosphere in the compartment grew more relaxed.

Jerry, now more comfortable, turned his attention to Ted's hands. He noticed two smooth wooden beads floating above Ted's palm, spinning on their own without him moving a muscle.

"Is that magic?" Jerry finally asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

Before Ted could answer, Anzu finally broke free from Hermione's grasp and fluttered up to the luggage rack, ruffling her feathers. She pecked at her wings and squawked, "Quack~ That girl was way too clingy~"

Hermione had been so enamored with Anzu that her own pet, Magic, had grown jealous and had been watching the raven like a hawk.

Anzu's arrival immediately caught Neville's attention. He clutched his toad, Trevor, closer and gazed at the sleek, jet-black raven with wide eyes. Its feathers shimmered with an iridescent blue tint, and its intelligent gaze scanned the room.

Anzu had grown quite a bit, now nearly 30 centimeters in length—a striking, impressive bird.

At that moment, the chatter from outside the train reached their ears.

"Neville! Mum, I see Neville! Can I go on the train and say hi?" a young girl's voice rang out.

"Ginny, Neville is not some zoo animal for you to gawk at. You've already seen him."

"That was when I was a baby! I don't even remember it!"

Ted glanced out the window and spotted Sirius and his wife seeing Harley off. Nearby, the Weasley family was gathered, the red-haired group as lively as ever.

Neville had clearly heard the exchange. He shrank back in his seat, shifting toward the window as if hoping he could melt into the wall and disappear.

Even as the so-called savior, Neville still lacked confidence. He was honest to a fault, but if someone had no outstanding qualities, people would simply say, "At least they're honest."

Maybe the pressure had been too much for him since childhood.

And with a grandmother like Augusta Longbottom—who was more of a strict drill sergeant than a nurturing guardian—it was no wonder Neville was the way he was.

...

Soon enough, the train began its journey north, cutting through the English countryside on its way to the Scottish Highlands.

As the rhythmic clatter of wheels on the tracks filled the carriage, the atmosphere among the students lightened. The reality of Hogwarts being just a few hours away settled in, bringing a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

A few minutes into the ride, there was a knock at the door.

The sliding door cracked open, revealing a red-haired boy peeking inside. "Hey, do you mind if I— Oh. This one's full too!" He sighed in frustration and started to pull back, only to lean in again after a second glance.

"Neville?"

Neville blinked in surprise before offering a small, awkward smile. "Hi, Ron."

Ted glanced at the newcomer and instantly recognized him. Ron Weasley. The youngest Weasley son, Hogwarts-bound and already looking overwhelmed.

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Uh, everywhere else is packed. Mind if I squeeze in here?"

Ted looked at the others, who gave small nods. "Of course. The more, the merrier."

"Thanks!" Ron said gratefully, hauling his battered suitcase inside.

While five people in a four-person compartment made for a tight fit, the Hogwarts Express was hardly the Knight Bus—there was still enough room to manage.

Ron introduced himself to everyone, quickly striking up conversation. He had a natural ability to break the ice, and soon Jerry, who had been a bit wary at first, found himself joining in. Hermione and Ted interjected with questions now and then, while Neville, despite his usual shyness, also contributed to the chatter. The compartment felt much more comfortable now, the initial stiffness melting away.

Naturally, the topic shifted to Hogwarts and the Sorting Ceremony.

Neville sighed, slumping slightly. "I want to be in Gryffindor, but...I think Hufflepuff is more likely. Honestly, I'd be happy if they take me at all."

Ron frowned. "What? No way! You're the Boy Who Lived! You've gotta be in Gryffindor."

Neville's face twisted into something between a grimace and a wry smile. "More like the Boy Who Got Lucky..."

Ted noticed the way Neville's hands clenched slightly, the flicker of doubt in his eyes. It was clear that years of unwanted attention and expectations had taken their toll.

He patted Neville on the shoulder. "The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account. If you really want Gryffindor, just be firm about it."

Ron gave Ted a skeptical look. "You sure about that? I heard from my brothers that the Sorting involves some kind of dangerous test! They wouldn't tell me what it was, though."

Ted smirked. "It's a long-standing tradition not to spoil it. You'll see soon enough."

Everyone groaned. "Riddler, get out of Hogwarts!" Ron complained, making Jerry snicker.

With the ice well and truly broken, Ron took the chance to show off a little. "I actually have a broom—a Cleansweep Meteor."

Ted raised an eyebrow. "Nice. How's the speed?"

"Uh, not great," Ron admitted. "It's about as fast as an overworked owl with a stomachache."

He then launched into a list of complaints about his hand-me-downs. "My wand used to be Charlie's, my robes were Bill's, and even my chess set belonged to my granddad! The pieces still talk about the 'good old days.' And then there's Scabbers—he was Peggy's."

Ted's casual smile froze for a split second. Scabbers. Percy's rat.

A tiny alarm bell rang in the back of his mind.

Keeping his expression neutral, Ted studied the sleeping rat curled up in Ron's lap. He knew this rat's real name. Knew what—or rather, who—it really was.

Peter Pettigrew.

A traitor. A Death Eater. And somehow, still scuttling around in plain sight.

Ted's fingers itched to grab his wand, but he forced himself to relax. This wasn't the time. Not yet.

Instead, he kept his voice light. "You said Scabbers used to be Percy's pet?"

"No, not Percy, it's Peggy, she's my third sibling." Ron paused. "Huh, now that I think about it, he's been in the family forever. I guess he's kind of an heirloom."

Ted's mind raced.

Third sister? Peggy?

Wait a minute—

"Ron," he asked carefully, "how many siblings do you have again?"

Ron huffed. "Six!"

Ted blinked. That seems to be right, but, Peggy?

That was off. Very off.

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Word count: 1611