The trio made their way through several more compartments.
Each compartment brought a new scene and a different mix of personalities. Some young wizards were friendly, some indifferent, and a few were downright hostile—some even tried to pull out their wands on them. Those were swiftly taught a lesson by William.
When they reached the last compartment, a strange pounding noise echoed from within.
Thud! Thud!
"Goyle! Watch it! Ow, that's my face!" Malfoy's voice sounded from inside.
"Crabbe, put some muscle into it… hit… his… butt… Ow!"
"Potter, you idiot, that's my hair!"
"Get your hands off my chest, Malfoy!"
"Weasley, that hurts!"
A torrent of exclamations and grunts poured from the compartment.
William hesitated, wondering if this was really the Hogwarts Express—or if he should get off immediately.
He started to question whether he should even open the door. The people inside seemd to be quite busy, should he disturb them?
With two kids behind him, he wondered if they'd be traumatized by what they might see.
Hermione, however, didn't hesitate and pulled the door open. She froze at the sight inside.
Five young wizards were packed into the compartment. They were all disheveled, breathing heavily, and tugging at each other's clothes.
Ron Weasley had Crabbe's hand in his mouth and was punching him wildly, like a rabid rabbit.
A scrawny boy with messy hair was locked in a fierce wrestling hold with Malfoy, both refusing to let go. The scene looked less like a fight and more like a passionate embrace.
William quickly recognized the scrawny boy as Harry Potter—his lightning-shaped scar was unmistakable.
A fat rat, Scabbers, had been asleep but was rudely awakened by the flying snacks hitting its head. Enraged, it leapt up and sank its sharp teeth into Goyle's nose.
Goyle screamed in pain, thrashing around and accidentally stomping on Malfoy's foot. Goyle was a big guy, and he hadn't held back.
Malfoy yelped and, in his fall, did a classic "scorpion tail," tripping Harry, who was still clinging to him.
The two tumbled to the floor and continued their scuffle, oblivious to the snacks scattered everywhere.
"Malfoy, you bully!" Neville shouted, his face turning red. "As long as I'm here, you won't get away with this!"
Summoning up some courage, Neville thumped his chest to psych himself up, clenched his fists, and charged forward. He barely took a step before a piercing shriek rang out from below.
Neville had accidentally stomped on Scabbers' tail. The rat, jolted with pain down to its very bones, bit Neville's ankle in retaliation.
Neville yelped, kicked out instinctively, and sent the rat flying in a perfect arc. Scabbers slammed into the window with a thud, then fell to the snack-covered windowsill below.
Staggering to its feet, Scabbers took two shaky steps, lost its footing, and tumbled off the sill, hitting the metal frame of a seat with a final, resounding clunk.
Scabbers was thoroughly defeated, KO'd by Neville's foot.
The shock of the rat's attack caused Neville's legs to buckle, and he tumbled forward onto Harry, who jerked downward with the sudden weight.
His head collided with Malfoy's face, and for a moment, warmth spread between them.
Their mouths were pressed tightly together.
Draco froze, eyes wide in horror, staring at Harry.
The compartment seemed to freeze in time. Ron and Crabbe stopped mid-fight, staring at the two on the floor with their jaws hanging open.
Whether it was seven or eight seconds, five or six minutes, or even an hour, Harry and Draco finally pulled apart, realizing what had happened. They quickly resumed their brawl.
"Quick! Separate them!" Hermione shrieked.
William pulled out the wand Cedric had made and muttered, "Expelliarmus Separo!"
The magic forced them apart. Ron, panting heavily, slumped into a seat, yelling;
"William, you shouldn't have stopped me! I could've taken all ten of them! I was going to teach these jerks a lesson for insulting my dad!"
William thought Malfoy had a real knack for picking fights. He had just taunted Neville in the train corridor earlier, and now he was back for round two with backup.
This was supposedly a Malfoy—a pure-blood from an illustrious family. Was he sure he wasn't just a run-of-the-mill hooligan?
However, Malfoy's mind was elsewhere as he glanced nervously at Ron.
Ron had called this boy William, as if they knew each other. That meant they'd met before and were on friendly terms.
Malfoy remembered his disastrous encounters with William ever since their first meeting in Diagon Alley last year, each time ending in misfortune for him.
Now, here he was again, staring at William, who held a wand and looked as menacing as ever…
Malfoy's imagination went into overdrive.
Moments later, having mentally fled as far as Romania, Malfoy broke down, collapsing onto the floor with messy hair and wide eyes. "Stay back! Don't come any closer!"
"…"
William, watching Malfoy's near-panic, could only wave his wand and mutter, "Reparo."
Their robes mended themselves, but the panda-eye bruises remained. There was nothing to be done about those—they'd have to face the Sorting Ceremony with their new look.
"Now get out before I call a Prefect."
Seeing that William wasn't about to attack, Malfoy spat on the compartment floor for good measure, as if implying Harry had bad breath.
"This isn't over! Just you wait!"
With that, he threw a hollow threat over his shoulder and left, dragging his two cronies with him.
As the dust settled, Ron searched the floor until he found Scabbers huddled in a corner. He picked up the rat by its tail, dangling it from his fingers.
"I think… he's just passed out?" Harry asked.
"No… I think he's dead!" Ron cried, sorrowfully. "Oh, Scabbers, you died such a tragic death! You were killed by Malfoy and his gang! If you seek revenge, haunt them, not me."
William: "…"
Ron looked genuinely upset. "I'll bury your body in the garden back home, where the garden gnomes won't disturb you…
"Poor thing, you just came to me from Percy, and before you even had a chance to live a decent life, you're gone."
He dangled Scabbers' limp body, swinging it back and forth in what looked more like corpse-tossing than mourning.
Suddenly, Scabbers stirred, dangling upside down in Ron's hand, and squeaked angrily at Neville.
"Oh, Scabbers, you're alive!" Ron exclaimed in delight, turning to Neville. "Hey, mate, what's your name?"
"Neville… Neville Longbottom."
Neville shrank behind William, as if worried the rat might remember him and come seeking vengeance.
"Thanks, mate," Ron said with a grin. "Scabbers has been pointing at you. Guess he's grateful for the help."
Neville hesitated, coughed, and didn't deny it.
Sometimes, a little white lie is the best way to keep the peace.
Neville was beginning to understand the meaning of one of William's favorite sayings—that sometimes, it's better to maintain harmony among classmates than to insist on the truth.
As for Scabbers? Sorry, Neville was a good guy.
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