The Hogwarts Express loomed ahead, its scarlet paint gleaming in the morning sun. White steam hissed from the engine, curling into the air like mist from a dream. The platform was alive with motion—students hugging parents, dragging overstuffed trunks, chasing after unruly pets, and shouting last-minute farewells.
Cael Vale moved cautiously through the chaos, his suitcase bumping along behind him on a single squeaky wheel. He passed compartments already brimming with chattering students, the occasional screech of an owl, and one particularly chaotic scene involving a toad, two third-years, and a levitating broomstick.
Eventually, he found an open compartment near the rear of the train. A third-year girl was loudly berating someone for stepping on her trunk just outside, but inside, there was only one occupant.
A girl sat alone by the window. She looked to be his age, with chin-length golden hair tucked neatly behind one ear and striking green eyes beneath fine, skeptical brows. Her expression gave the impression that she'd already judged the entire train and found it lacking. She wore a navy-blue blazer over her school robes, and her scuffed suitcase sat beside her, covered in silver Latin phrases that shimmered faintly in the light.
Cael stepped aside, polite. "Hello. Is this seat taken?"
The girl looked up from a thick book titled Magical Flora of the Northern Hemisphere, her voice cool and precise.
"No. Do you see anyone else?" she said sharply. "I was one crowded corridor away from hexing a prefect who tried to usher me into a full compartment. So unless you're planning to be quiet and tolerable, maybe find somewhere else."
Cael raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he stepped inside, stowed his trunk on the rack, and slid into the seat across from her.
[SYSTEM]: Oh boy. If you try talking to her again, I swear you're about to be incinerated. Brat alert.
Cael (thinking): Yeah… she does look kind of familiar though. I swear I've seen her somewhere. But best not poke the dragon. Not yet.
The train jolted beneath them with a sudden hiss and began to crawl forward. They sat in silence, the gentle clatter of the wheels marking the passing time. Every so often, Cael risked a glance at the girl, who seemed utterly absorbed in her reading.
An hour passed.
Then, without looking up, she said, "Cassandra Vole."
Cael blinked. For a moment, he swore he'd been struck by lightning.
Cael (to system): Wait, Cassandra Vole? Isn't she… isn't she from a game? I swear she's not from the books.
SYSTEM: Yeah, you're not imagining it. But hey—timeline's already wibbly, might as well roll with it.
"Cael Vale," he replied simply.
She finally looked up, giving him a once-over. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "That robe. It's worn and ugly. Don't your parents buy you proper clothes? The only decent thing about you is your face."
Cael tilted his head. "Maybe I don't have parents. Maybe I'm a poor boy from an orphanage."
Cassandra hesitated a beat—long enough to show surprise—before replying, "Are you? …Shame."
The silence that followed was colder than before. Outside, the landscape was rushing past faster now—fields, trees, a glimpse of a river. The train rocked gently, the occasional whistle cutting through the hum.
Cassandra returned to her book. Apologizing wasn't her style. She was sharp-witted, self-assured, and unapologetically ambitious. Kindness didn't come easily to her—not because she lacked empathy, but because she didn't yet know how to wield it.
SYSTEM: What. The. Hell. Is this normal first-year banter? Insult her back. Right now.
Cael: She's eleven. I'm not about to start a war over my fashion sense.
SYSTEM: Simp behavior detected.
Cael: Don't you dare start that again. She's eleven, not a Marvel love interest. I don't want to be flagged by the Ministry or the FBI.
SYSTEM: Mmmhm. Keep pretending it's just morals, Vale.
After a long stretch of silence, Cael tried to bridge the awkwardness.
"So… are you from a magical family? Pure-blood?"
Cassandra looked up, her tone still crisp. "Yes. Pure-blood. My family works in the magical plant trade. Imports and exports between the U.S. and the U.K."
"Oh," Cael said, "So are you from the U.S. or…?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so concerned about my family?"
He blinked. "I wasn't trying to pry. Sorry if I was rude."
She paused. Then, after a moment, said, "I was born here. In the U.K. But my parents live in the U.S. now."
"Why not go to Ilvermorny, then?"
"My parents were both Hufflepuffs. But I intend to be a Slytherin," she said firmly. "Like my grandmother."
Their conversation ended there—abrupt, but less icy than before.
Then the compartment door slid open with a bang.
"Oi, you two!" a cheerful voice called. "Room for a pair of dashing redheads, or are you planning to duel for the window seat?"
Two identical boys stood in the doorway, wide grins on freckled faces. They wore hand-knit sweaters, one with a large G, the other with an F.
Cael blinked. "You're the platform runners. The twins."
"One and the same," said the G. "George."
"And I'm Fred," said F. "Or maybe the other way around. Depends who's asking."
Cassandra crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Depends who's annoying, really."
"Ooh, sharp tongue," said Fred, clearly delighted. "We like her."
"You mind if we crash here?" George asked. "Our compartment was invaded by third-years reenacting a Quidditch match. With real brooms."
Cael looked up. "Wait—do they allow brooms on the train?"
"They don't," Fred said cheerfully. "Which made it a very short reenactment."
Cael shrugged. "Sure. Sit."
The twins dropped onto the bench beside him like royalty returning to their throne.
"So," George began, rummaging through a tattered bag, "first-years, huh? Excited? Terrified? Secretly plotting to replace the Sorting Hat with a rabid Puffskein?"
"I was thinking more like surviving the walk to the castle," Cael said.
"Boring," Fred muttered.
Cassandra rolled her eyes and returned to her book, muttering something under her breath about "idiotic males."
The twins, undeterred, tossed a squashed chocolate cake toward Cael.
"Is this cursed?" he asked.
"Only emotionally," George said.
The next hour passed in a haze of laughter and banter. The twins traded outlandish Hogwarts stories—some likely true, most certainly not—and Cael listened, amused, occasionally chiming in. Cassandra said little, though her occasional smirk betrayed reluctant amusement.
When the trolley came rolling by, the twins practically bought it out. Cael, unsure of wizarding currency, pointed at a pumpkin pasty and paid with a bronze coin he hoped was correct.
Fields gave way to rolling hills, then rivers and dark forests. Clouds passed like dragons overhead. The sun dipped lower, casting the compartment in molten gold. For the first time in a long while, Cael forgot to be nervous.
As the train began to slow, Cassandra sat upright, eyes glittering with anticipation.
"We're close. Everyone out. I need to change into my uniform."
Fred opened his mouth—likely for a joke—but Cassandra's glare froze the words in his throat. The boys stood and exited the compartment, leaving her to change. Cael stepped out with a quiet sigh and pulled on his own uniform in the corridor.
SYSTEM: Brace for arrival. School of Wizardry imminent.
Also… reward incoming.
Cael smiled faintly and glanced out the window.
The castle had come into view—and it was magnificent.