"Come on, give Grandpa a twirl!"
Charles held out a Chocolate Frog to Scabbers, trying to coax the rat into performing a trick.
Scabbers shot him a look that clearly said: "Are you out of your mind?"
Hermione and Neville had gone off again on their valiant toad-hunting mission, leaving Charles behind with Harry.
"I didn't know you were a wizard too," Harry said. "But when you saw me just now, you didn't look surprised at all. Why's that?"
Charles, still offering the frog to Scabbers, turned and replied matter-of-factly, "Just like Hermione said—you're famous. From Khitan to Ireland, there's not a soul who hasn't heard your name."
While he was busy talking, Scabbers took advantage of the distraction, grabbed the Chocolate Frog, and bolted straight into Ron's pocket.
Harry didn't even flinch at the flattery—he seemed used to it by now—and grinned. "I'm really glad you're coming to Hogwarts too. I hope we end up in the same house!"
Ron cut in grumpily, "As long as I don't end up in the same one as her, I'll be fine."
Harry, curious, turned to Charles. "What house was your brother in?"
Charles didn't answer right away. He was half-listening to Harry and Ron chatting about the Hogwarts houses and half-focused on The Daily Prophet, which had an article about the break-in at Gringotts.
Harry found the whole Gringotts thing a bit fishy. Then something clicked in his mind, and he suddenly turned to Charles.
"By the way, did you know? Aunt Petunia beat up Hagrid. With her fists!"
Charles blinked. The image in his head was absurd: the quiet, biscuit-bearing lady from across the hall taking down a ten-foot, ten-foot-wide half-giant. What sort of script was that?
Harry, still riding the high of the memory, went on. "That night, Hagrid gave Dudley a pig's tail!"
Charles stared. "Seriously? Did you get a photo? If you did, the next time Dudley tries to bully you, you can just say you're sending it to The Times or The Sun! That'd sort him out!"
"Why didn't I think of that?" Harry groaned in regret. "Anyway, Uncle Vernon was scared out of his mind, but Aunt Petunia—she went mental! She ran straight at Hagrid."
"She kicked him—right between the legs. Hagrid doubled over, and then I saw the cleanest uppercut in the history of mankind. Nailed him right on the nose! Blood everywhere, like someone had turned on a tap!"
Charles frowned slightly, remembering how Petunia had switched expressions so swiftly in front of Dumbledore. There was definitely more to her than met the eye.
Before he could dwell on it, the carriage door was yanked open with zero subtlety. Trouble had arrived.
Draco Malfoy strode in, flanked by his ever-present goons, looking like he was auditioning for the role of Most Punchable Face of the Year.
He was clearly here for Harry. But first, he paused for the traditional Weasley insult, glanced briefly at Charles, then turned back to Harry and said, "You'll find some wizarding families are better than others. Hanging around with Muggle-borns? That's just going to leave you stinking, Potter. You don't want to go making the wrong sort of friends. I can help with that."
He extended a hand.
Harry didn't take it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly.
Malfoy's blood pressure spiked. His pale face flushed pink.
Charles smiled faintly. Somehow, just by sitting back and watching the drama, he'd still managed to get caught in the crossfire. And now he was staring at Malfoy, who looked for all the world like a boy who'd just worked up the courage to confess his love—only to be told he was, in fact, a bit of a prat.
"I were you, Potter," Malfoy said, regaining his composure and adopting a mock-sincere tone, "I'd be very careful. You ought to learn some respect, or you might just end up like your parents. They didn't know their place either. If you keep hanging around with riffraff like the Weasleys, Hagrid, or… him"—he flicked his chin toward Charles—"you'll only get dragged down with them."
Harry and Ron shot to their feet at once. Ron's face had turned the exact shade of his hair.
Charles stayed seated—mainly because Harry had placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
Harry narrowed his eyes and said, very softly, "Say that again."
Malfoy gave a little scoffing laugh. "Oh? What, you lot want to fight?"
Harry calmly stepped in front of Charles, blocking him from view, and rolled up his sleeves. "Unless you leave right now."
He eyed Crabbe and Goyle behind Malfoy—both of them considerably larger than he or Ron—and calculated quickly. The space was tight. There wouldn't be room for dodging. If they were going to do this, he had to end it fast—before Charles got involved and they all ended up expelled.
Goyle looked Harry up and down, unimpressed by his thin frame. "Thing is," he said with a smirk, "we don't feel like leaving. We've finished our sweets, and it looks like you lot still have some."
He reached out to grab a Chocolate Frog next to Ron—only to double over with a strangled "Oof!", clutching his stomach and collapsing to the floor like a boiled prawn.
Charles raised an eyebrow. Harry wasn't bluffing.
Don't be fooled by the lanky frame—Harry packed more power than most boys his age. Ever since he'd passed the one-meter-fifty mark, he'd been unofficially crowned "undefeated champion under 1.5 meters in all of Surrey."
And he wasn't done. In the same breath, Harry sent a clean punch into Crabbe's nose, sending him stumbling straight out of the compartment.
Malfoy and Ron both stared, mouths agape. This was… not the usual "Boy Who Lived" routine.
Malfoy, to his credit, was quick on the uptake. Both of his bodyguards were down. That left just him.
Charles finally stood up.
He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, gently pulling him back. "That's enough," he said, then walked calmly up to Malfoy.
"Charles…" Harry said nervously, "it's literally the first day. Maybe go easy?"
Charles just gave him a reassuring smile before draping an arm over Malfoy's shoulders in a suspiciously friendly way. "You know," he said earnestly, "I've actually got a bit of a gift for Divination. Every now and then, I get these little visions of the future."
Harry chimed in from behind. "It's true. He's never been wrong—not even about the weather."
Malfoy's legs were visibly trembling now. Charles's hand looked casual, but it was pressing down on his shoulder hard.
Charles leaned in close, and whispered into his ear, "I just had a vision. Your house… exploded."
Malfoy dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Charles looked down at him and smiled. "You poor thing. Look at you—just falling down like that. And your mates? They just ran into the compartment door. Clumsy, all of you."
With the pests gone, Ron beamed. "You were brilliant! You scared him so bad he had to crawl away!"
Charles only smiled, glancing up at the owl cage on the luggage rack. He turned to Harry. "Mind if I borrow your owl tonight? I'd like to write home and let my grandfather know I'm all right."
(End of Chapter)