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HP: Grinding my way through - 6
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 20:10:28 +0000 UTCChapter 6: Arriving at Hogwarts
Shawn saw Chocolate Frog cards for the first time, and naturally, the other young wizards in the compartment were experiencing the same novelty. The conversation quickly turned to the collectible cards tucked inside each enchanted chocolate.
"Wow! Devonté Simprin!" Justin exclaimed, holding up a card triumphantly.
"Do you know him?" Hermione leaned forward with interest.
"Not personally, but I deeply admire what he did."
Hermione raised her eyebrows sceptically and plucked the card from Justin's hand. She read aloud: "Devonté Simprin. Survived eating an entire Venomous Tentacula on a bet, but remains purple."
When she finished, Hermione turned and glared at Justin with obvious disapproval. "Idiot."
"Okay, you're absolutely right," Justin conceded without argument, then both of them turned their attention to Hermione's card.
"Godric Gryffindor." Hermione lifted her chin, her lips curving into a proud smile. "One of the founders of Hogwarts. One of the houses is named after him."
"That's brilliant. I read about him in Hogwarts: A History. The book says he also left a legendary sword at Hogwarts."
Justin's sincere praise made Hermione's eyes narrow with pleasure, clearly delighted.
Outside the window, the train had long since left London behind. They were now speeding past pastures filled with grazing cattle and sheep, the landscape rolling in gentle waves of green. The two fell silent for a moment, watching the vast grasslands and hills sweep past. Occasionally they spotted riders on horseback dressed in white riding attire, looking like pale flowers scattered across an oil painting.
"I'm just saying, he's really quiet," Hermione murmured, not mentioning a name, though Justin knew exactly who she meant.
"Not necessarily." Justin smiled, dimples appearing on his face in a way that looked especially warm and reassuring. "Shawn, would you please help solve this pumpkin pasty problem? I need assistance."
A slender hand reached out and took the offered pastry.
"Thank you." The quiet voice came from behind the thick, tan-coloured book several seconds later.
Justin's dimples deepened with satisfaction. "My mother always told me that truly capable people are often very quiet. They remain calm even when everything's falling apart around them. However, they're often not born into fortunate circumstances..."
Justin's gaze drifted to Shawn's worn coat and his intensely focused profile, speaking with deliberate meaning. "Mother said I always need friends like that. Her advice helped me find my closest companions at Sumfield School. She was right—I know we'll be friends for life. We promised each other that even in different schools, we won't lose contact. If you're interested, I'd be happy to share their letters with you."
As Justin spoke, he opened his trunk. Besides the required items from the school supply list, the most prominent contents were neatly stacked letters bound with string. Scattered photographs lay beside the letters, showing Justin with various friends in different settings—birthday parties, school events, and summer holidays.
Just as Hermione was examining the photographs with surprised interest, a tearful voice suddenly interrupted from the corridor.
"Trevor! Where are you?"
A round-faced boy squeezed anxiously into the compartment, asking with nervous timidity: "Sorry to bother you—have any of you seen my toad?"
The train had travelled two-thirds of its journey when Shawn's concentration finally broke. The warm, golden lights inside the carriages had brightened as dusk settled outside, casting everything in amber tones.
He rubbed his tired eyes. The compartment was empty—only he remained.
Glancing at the darkening sky through the window, Shawn realised he should change into his wizard robes. As he closed One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, he discovered a note tucked between the pages.
It read:
Shawn, we went to help a boy named Neville find his toad. If you want to join us, you can find us in the corridor. —H & J
Shawn considered for a moment, then wrote a brief message on the back:
The train is arriving soon. Remember to change into your robes.
After adding his note, Shawn grabbed his school robes and opened the compartment door.
The corridor buzzed with noise—many times louder than before. The young wizards had clearly gotten to know their neighbours, and their discussions had grown increasingly animated and unrestrained. Excitement crackled through the air like electricity.
As Shawn passed one particular compartment, he caught fragments of an argument inside.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
It was a childish voice attempting a spell.
"Are you sure that's even a real spell?" A girl's sceptical voice challenged.
"Well, it's not very impressive, is it? I've tried a few simple spells myself, just for practice, and they've all worked perfectly. Watch this—Oculus Reparo!"
Shawn understood immediately what was happening. He was about to continue past when a platinum-haired boy strode forward and pulled the compartment door open with theatrical flair, flanked by two larger boys who resembled bodyguards more than friends.
Shawn didn't need to witness the confrontation to know what would unfold.
Sure enough, a mocking, drawling voice soon drifted into the corridor: "If I were you, Potter, I'd be very careful. You ought to be more polite, or you'll end up like your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. If you continue associating with riffraff like the Weasleys and that oaf Hagrid, it'll rub off on you."
What a vicious tongue, Shawn thought silently, heading toward the changing room without looking back.
Behind him in that tense compartment, angry shouting soon erupted. Shawn could guess that Scabbers must have bitten Goyle, helping Harry escape the confrontation. If he remembered correctly, this was perhaps the only time Peter Pettigrew—in his rat form—had actually helped Harry Potter.
When Hermione and Justin returned to their compartment, the rumbling of the train had reached its crescendo before beginning to decelerate. The scarlet steam engine released a long, mournful whistle as it slowed.
Outside the window, beneath a darkening purple sky, only continuous mountain ranges and dense forests were visible—silhouettes against the dying light.
Hermione's and Justin's eyes sparkled with barely suppressed excitement, their faces pressed close to the glass.
The three students disembarked together from the Hogwarts Express onto a small, dark platform shrouded in mist. Steam from the engine swirled around their ankles.
From the gloom ahead, a giant figure emerged holding a lantern—at first glance resembling the man-eating monsters from childhood fairy tales. But as the warm light illuminated his face, kind eyes and a wild beard became visible.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid's booming voice carried across the platform.
The night's cold air invaded their lungs with each breath, sharp and bracing. This time Shawn didn't shiver. The clothes on his body were no longer those donated, hole-riddled, pilled garments from the orphanage, but Hogwarts' plain black robes over a warm undershirt. They provided genuine comfort and protection against the chill.
Following Hagrid's massive form through the dark forest, their path lit only by his swinging lantern, the first-years finally emerged at the edge of the Black Lake. When Hogwarts Castle came into view across the water, every single young wizard released a collective, awestruck gasp.
"Wow—"
Justin's shout was the loudest and most enthusiastic, causing Hermione to shoot him several reproachful glares.
"Forgive me, Hermione, but giving up Eton College wasn't an easy decision," Justin said, his voice thick with emotion. "I wasn't wrong. Look at this castle—those floating lights, the moving statues, the towers reaching into the clouds... If my mother could see this scene, I know she'd be proud of me. She'd finally understand."
They crossed the Black Lake in small wooden boats that moved of their own accord, gliding smoothly through the dark water. Entering the boathouse carved into the cliff face, they climbed ancient stone stairs worn smooth by centuries of students. The first-years gathered in a nervous cluster at the entrance hall doors, their whispers echoing off the high stone walls.
Professor McGonagall appeared, stern and imposing in her emerald robes, and began explaining the Sorting ceremony that would determine their fates—which house would become their home for the next seven years.
Shawn listened carefully, his heart beating steadily. Whatever house the Sorting Hat chose, he would make it work. He had to. The scholarship depended on it, and so did his entire future.
